Part 12 (1/2)

The wisdom of keeping his foot on the brake was known to him. He was wise enough, too, to grasp the fact that a man in a temper weakens his armour. There was battle to be done; he meant having it out before the woman left his room.

”Is that altogether correct?” he inquired. ”Surely you must, living in this place, have heard?”

”Oh!”

Exclamation with a vinegary shake of her head. She was standing now with her mittened hands crossed, prepared evidently for a long talk; continued:

”We hear plenty about them, sir!”

”You know the master of the house?”

”Not the present one, sir--if there is one just now!”

In shaping the deep lines round her mouth his satanic majesty had surely held the graver! Masters thought the meaning smile with which she let loose the innuendo positively hideous in its suggestiveness. His inflammable emotions rendered it difficult for him to get proper control of his voice as he enquired:

”The mistress, then?”

Impatience in the tone of his voice. He had hoped to elicit replies without this direct inquiry. Felt ashamed of himself the while he probed. It was not a feeling the woman shared. She answered:

”Oh, yes, sir.”

The readiness of her answer was apparent. She was the kind of woman to whom slander was a dainty morsel to be tongue-rolled. Her own tongue became as the pen of a ready writer. It sickened the questioner, but he continued:

”And the governess?”

Vigorous shaking of the woman's head again. In the same redolent-of-sourness style, too, as she answered:

”There is no governess there, sir. The only servints is the cook and 'ousemaid and the odd boy.”

He knew that to be a lie! Hope, that he had thought entombed, rose again. One thing incorrect, why not all? He said sharply:

”You are mistaken!”

”I don't think so, sir.”

Again that hideous smile. Accompanied this time by a pitying expression; pity for his simplicity! He was like the generality of men--writhed under pity. It acted on him with the irritation of a rasp. He, however, controlled himself sufficiently to enquire:

”A tall, fair, blue-eyed young lady?”

The description elicited a second edition of the pity--third of the head shaking--as the woman answered:

”That's the mistress, sir.”

It is difficult to keep a watchful eye ever on the safety valve. The indignation within him was seething to boiling point. He was getting up steam so rapidly as to create the impression that his emotions were arranged on the principle of the tubular boiler. He blurted out:

”I tell you, you are wrong! Her name is Miss Mivvins!”

Combination of every unpleasant wrinkle that the human face is capable of a.s.suming, as she replied, with the incisiveness of a knife cut: