Mr. Witt's Widow Part 30

Thursday came, and Monday was the wedding-day. The atmosphere was thick with new clothes, cards of invitation, presents, and congratulations. A th.o.r.n.y question had arisen as to whether George should be invited.

Neaera's decision was in his favour, and Gerald himself had written the note, hoping all the while that his cousin's own good sense would keep him away.

"It would be hardly decent in him to come," he said to his father.

"I daresay he will make some excuse," answered Lord Tottlebury. "But I hope you won't keep up the quarrel."

"Keep up the quarrel! By Jove, father, I'm too happy to quarrel."

"Gerald," said Maud Neston, entering, "here's such a funny letter for you! I wonder it ever reached."

She held out a dirty envelope, and read the address--

"_Mr. Nesston, Esq._, "_His Lordship Tottilberry_, "_London._"

"Who in the world is it?" asked Maud, laughing.

Gerald had no secrets.

"I don't know," said he. "Give it me, and we'll see." He opened the letter. The first thing he came upon was a piece of tissue paper neatly folded. Opening it, he found it to be a ten-pound note. "Hullo! is this a wedding present?" said he with a laugh.

"Ten pounds! How funny!" exclaimed Maud. "Is there no letter?"

"Yes, here's a letter!" And Gerald read it to himself.

The letter ran as follows, saving certain eccentricities of spelling which need not be reproduced:--

"SIR,

"I don't rightly know whether this here is your money or Nery's.

Nor I don't know _where it comes from_, after what you said when you was here with her Friday. I can work for my living, thanks be to Him to whom thanks is due, and I don't put money in my pocket as I don't know whose pocket it come out of.

"Your humble servant, "SUSAN BORT."

"Susan Bort!" exclaimed Gerald. "Now, who the deuce is Susan Bort, and what the deuce does she mean?"

"Unless you tell us what she says----" began Lord Tottlebury.

Gerald read the letter again, with a growing feeling of uneasiness. He noticed that the postmark was Liverpool. It so chanced that he had not been to Liverpool for more than a year. And who was Susan Bort?

He got up, and, making an apology for not reading out his letter, went to his own room to consider the matter.

"'Nery?'" said he. "And if I wasn't there, who was?"

It was generous of George Neston to shield Neaera at Liverpool. It was also generous of Neaera to send Mrs. Bort ten pounds immediately after that lady had treated her so cruelly. It was honest of Mrs. Bort to refuse to accept money which she thought might be the proceeds of burglary. To these commendable actions Gerald was indebted for the communication which disturbed his bliss.

"I wonder if Neaera can throw any light on it," said Gerald. "It's very queer. After lunch, I'll go and see her."

CHAPTER XVI.

THERE IS AN EXPLOSION.

Mr. Blodwell was entertaining Lord Mapledurham at luncheon at the Themis Club. The Marquis was not in an agreeable mood. He was ill, and when he was ill he was apt to be cross. His host's calm satisfaction with the issue of the Neston affair irritated him.

"Really, Blodwell," he said, "I sometimes think a lawyer's wig is like Samson's hair. When he takes it off, he takes off all his wits with it.

Your simplicity is positively childish."

Mr. Blodwell gurgled contentedly over a basin of soup.

"I think no evil unless I'm paid for it," he said, wiping his mouth.

"George found he was wrong, and said so."

"I saw the girl in the Park yesterday," the Marquis remarked. "She's a pretty girl."

"Uncommonly. But I'm not aware that being pretty makes a girl a thief."

"No, but it makes a man a fool."

"My dear Mapledurham!"

"Did he ever tell you what he found out at Liverpool?"

"Did he go to Liverpool?"

"Did he go? G.o.d bless the man! Of course he went, to look for----"

Lord Mapledurham stopped, to see who was throwing a shadow over his plate.

"May I join you?" asked Sidmouth Vane, who thought he was conferring a privilege. "I'm interested in what you are discussing."

"Oh, it's you, is it? Have you been listening?"

"No, but everybody's discussing it. Now, I agree with you, Lord Mapledurham. It's a put-up job."

"I expect you thought it was a put-up job when they baptised you, didn't you?" inquired the Marquis.

"And looked for poison in your bottle?" added Blodwell.

Vane gently waved his hand, as if to scatter these clumsy sarcasms. "A man may not be sixty and yet not be an a.s.s," he languidly observed.

"Waiter, some salmon, and a pint of 44."

"And may be sixty and yet be an a.s.s, eh?" said the Marquis, chuckling.

"Among ourselves, why do you suppose he let her off?" asked Vane.