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Updated: June 12, 2025
At the prospect of success opened before him, he abandoned his curacy, and devoted himself to the art of stocking making by machinery. This is the version of the story given by Henson on the authority of an old stocking-maker, who died in Collins's Hospital, Nottingham, aged ninety-two, and was apprenticed in the town during the reign of Queen Anne.
"Well," Bell said, impatiently, "I'm only a mere man, after all." "Henson is at Longdean; he turned up an hour ago, and at the present moment is having his supper in the library before going to bed. But that is not the worst part of it. Williams heard the dogs making a great noise by the gates, and went to see what was wrong.
"I remember coming here," the Dutchman said. "I can't recall the rest just now. I feel like a man who is trying to piece the fragments of a dream together." "You'll have it all right in an hour or two," Bell said, with an encouraging smile. "Meanwhile your breakfast is ready. Yes, you can smoke afterwards if you like. And then you shall tell me all about Reginald Henson.
Henson strolled away with a sigh of gentle pleasure. Once out of sight he flew to the library, where he scribbled a couple of telegrams. They were carefully worded and related to some apocryphal parcel required without delay, and calculated to convey nothing to the lay mind. A servant was despatched to the village with them.
"And that is in your idea that Henson changed those cigar-cases after Miss Gates laid your votive offering on Steel's doorstep." "How else could it be done?" Chris said. "My dear, the thing is quite obvious. You have already told me that Henson was quite aware what you were going to do at least that he knew you were going to consult Steel.
"We need have no further anxiety. Perfect rest is all that he requires." Henson nodded in a sleepy fashion; his eyes were closed now till the others had left the room. Once he was alone he was alert and vigorous again. "Ten minutes," he muttered, "say, a quarter of an hour. A touch, a spot of water, and the thing is done. And I can never be found out."
"Frank, I have heard a great deal to-day to cause me to think that I might have done you a grave injustice. And yet I am not sure.... In any case, it would be bad policy for you to remain here. If the news came to the ears of Reginald Henson it might upset Miss Machiavelli's plans." "That had not occurred to me for the moment," Chris exclaimed. "On the whole, Frank had better not stay.
This was under the great Pagan emperors, some of whom knew Christianity and despised it. "Slavery is cruel," says Mr. Henson, while "Christianity teaches men to be kind and to love one another." But teaching men to love one another, even if Christianity taught nothing else which is far from the truth is a very questionable expenditure of time and energy; for how is love to be taught?
He spoke with difficulty. "Do we feel any better this morning?" Walker asked, cheerfully. "No, we don't," said Henson, with a total absence of his usual graciousness of manner. "We feel confoundedly weak, and sick, and dizzy. Every time I drop off to sleep I wake with a start and a feeling that that infernal dog is smothering me. Has the brute been shot yet?"
I've got the picture on my mantelshelf in my sitting-room rolled up as you told me to roll it up and tied with a piece of cotton. It was your own idea as the thing was to be left about casual-like as being less calculated to excite suspicion. And there it is at the present moment, and I'll take my oath to it." Henson fairly gasped.
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