Part 63 (1/2)

”Why--yes--I have,” said Mrs. Verrall, with some emphasis. ”I was about to despatch a small parcel this very next hour to Charlotte, lay post.

But--when shall you see her? To-night?”

”I can see her to-night if you wish it.”

”It would oblige me much. The truth is, it is something I ought to have sent yesterday, and I forgot it. Be sure and let her have it to-night.”

Mrs. Verrall rang, and a small packet, no larger than a bulky letter, was brought in. George took it, and was soon being whirled back to London.

He stepped into a cab at the Waterloo Station, telling the man he should have double pay if he drove at double speed: and it conveyed him to Mr.

Verrall's chambers.

George went straight to Mr. Brompton's room, as before. That gentleman had finished his _Times_, and was buried deep in a pile of letters. ”Is Mr. Verrall in now?” asked George.

”He is here now, Mr. G.o.dolphin. He was here two minutes after you departed: it's a wonder you did not meet.”

George knew the way to Mr. Verrall's room, and was allowed to enter. Mr.

Verrall, alone then, turned round with a cordial grasp.

”Holloa!” said he. ”We somehow missed this morning. How are you?”

”I say, Verrall, how came you to play me such a trick as to go off in that clandestine manner yesterday?” remonstrated George. ”You know the uncertainty I was in: that if I did not get what I hoped for, I should be on my beam ends?”

”My dear fellow, I supposed you had got it. Hearing nothing of you all day, I concluded it had come by the morning's post.”

”It had not come then,” returned George, crustily. In spite of his blind trust in the unbleached good faith of Mr. Verrall, there were moments when a thought would cross him as to whether that gentleman had been playing a double game. This was one of them.

”I had a hasty summons, and was obliged to come away without delay,”

explained Mr. Verrall. ”I sent you a message.”

”Which I never received,” retorted George. ”But the message is not the question. See here! A pretty letter, this, for a man to read. It came by the afternoon post.”

Mr. Verrall took the letter, and digested the contents deliberately; in all probability he had known their substance before. ”What do you think of it?” demanded George.

”It's unfortunate,” said Mr. Verrall.

”It's ruin,” returned George.

”Unless averted. But it must be averted.”

”How?”

”There is one way, you know,” said Mr. Verrall, after a pause. ”I have pointed it out to you already.”

”And I wish your tongue had been blistered, Verrall, before you ever had pointed it out to me!” foamed George. ”There!”

Mr. Verrall raised his impa.s.sive eyebrows. ”You must be aware----”

”Man!” interrupted George, his voice hoa.r.s.e with emotion, as he grasped Mr. Verrall's shoulder: ”do you know that the temptation, since you suggested it, is ever standing out before me--an _ignis fatuus_, beckoning me on to it! Though I know that it would prove nothing but a curse to engulf me.”