1
If any rumour circulated round Wyck-on-the-Hill, sooner or later it was
bound to reach the old lady at the Dower House. The Dower House was the
redistributing centre for the news of the district.
Thus Mr. Waddington heard that Mrs. Levitt was talking about letting the
White House furnished; that she was in debt to all the tradesmen in the
place; that her rent at Mrs. Trinder's was still owing; that her losses
at bridge were never paid for. He heard that if Major Markham had been
thinking of Mrs. Levitt, he had changed his mind; there was even a
definite rumour about a broken engagement. Anyhow, Major Markham was now
paying unmistakable attentions to the youngest Miss Hawtrey of
Medlicott. But as, engagement or no engagement, his attentions to Mrs.
Levitt had been unmistakable too, their rupture required some
explanation. It was supposed that the letter which the Major's mother,
old Mrs. Markham of Medlicott, received from her daughter, Mrs. Dick
Benham of Tunbridge Wells, did very thoroughly explain it. There had
been "things" in that letter which Mrs. Markham had not been able to
repeat, but you gathered from her singular reticence that they had
something to do with Dick Benham and Mrs. Levitt, and that they showed
conclusively that Elise was not what old Mrs. Waddington called "a nice
woman."
"They say she led Frank Levitt an awful life. The Benhams, my dear,
won't have her in the house."
But all this was trivial compared with the correspondence that now
passed between Mr. Waddington and Elise. He admitted now that old
Corbett had known what he was talking about when he had warned him that
he would be landed--landed, if he didn't take care, to the tune of five
hundred and fifty-five pounds. His letters to Mrs. Levitt, dictated to
Barbara Madden, revealed the care he had to take. From motives which
appeared to him chivalrous he had refrained from showing Barbara Mrs.
Levitt's letters to him. He left her to gather their crude substance
from his admirable replies.
"'MY DEAR MRS. LEVITT:
"'I am afraid I must advise you to give up the scheme if it depends on
my co-operation. I thought I had defined my position--'
"Defined my position is good, I think."
"It sounds good," said Barbara.
"'That position remains what it was. And as your exceptionally fine
intelligence cannot fail to understand it, no more need be said.
"'At least I hope it is so. I should be sorry if our very pleasant
relations terminated in disappointment--'"
For one instant she could see him smile, feeling voluptuously the sharp,
bright edge of his word before it cut him. He drew back, scowling above
a sudden sombre flush of memory.
"Disappointment--" said Barbara, giving him his cue.
"Disappointment is not quite the word. I want something--something more
chivalrous."
His eyes turned away from her, pretending to look for it.
"Ah--now I have it. 'Very pleasant relations terminated on a note--on a
note of--on an unexpected note.
"'With kind regards, very sincerely yours,
"'HORATIO BYSSHE WADDINGTON.'
"You will see, Barbara, that I am saying precisely the same thing, but
saying it inoffensively, as a gentleman should."
Forty-eight hours later he dictated:
"'DEAR MRS. LEVITT:
"'No: I have no suggestion to make except that you curtail your very
considerable expenditure. For the rest, believe me it is as disagreeable
for me to be obliged to refuse your request as I am sure it must be for
you to make it--'
"H'm. Rest--request. That won't do. 'As disagreeable for me to have to
refuse as it must be for you to ask.'
"Simpler, that. Never use an elaborate phrase where a simple one will
do.
"'You are good enough to say I have done so much for you in the past. I
have done what I could; but you will pardon me if I say there is a limit
beyond which I cannot go.
"'Sincerely yours,
"'HORATIO B. WADDINGTON.'
"I've sent her a cheque for fifty-five pounds already. That ought to
have settled her."
"Settled her? You don't mean to say you sent her a _cheque?_"
"I did."
"You oughtn't to have sent her anything at all."
"But I'd promised it, Barbara--"
"I don't care. You ought to have waited."
"I wanted to close the account and have done with her."
"That isn't the way to close it, sending cheques. That cheque will have
to go through Parson's Bank. Supposing Toby sees it?"
"What if he does?"
"He might object. He might even make a row about it."
"What could I do? I had to pay her."
"You could have made the cheque payable to me. It would have passed as
my quarter's salary. I could have cashed it and you could have given her
notes."
"And if Toby remembered their numbers?"
"You could have changed them for ten shilling notes in Cheltenham."
"All these elaborate precautions!"
"You can't be too precautions when you're dealing with a woman like
that.... Is this all you've given her?"
"All?"
"Yes. Did you ever give her anything any other time?"
"Well--possibly--from time to time--"
"Have you any idea of the total amount?"
"I can't say off-hand. And I can't see what it has to do with it."
"It has everything to do with it. Can you find out?"
"Certainly, if I look up my old cheque books."
"You'd better do that now."
He turned, gloomily, to his writing-table. The cheque books for the
current year and the year before it betrayed various small loans to Mrs.
Levitt, amounting in all to a hundred and fifty pounds odd.
"Oh, dear," said Barbara, "all that's down against you. Still--it's all
ante-Wednesday. What a pity you didn't pay her that fifty-five before
your interview."
"How do you mean?"
"It's pretty certain she's misinterpreted your paying it now so soon."
"After the interview? Do you really think she misunderstood me,
Barbara?"
"I think she wants you to think she did."
"You think she's trying--trying--to--"
"To sell you her silence? Yes, I do."
"Good God! I never thought of that. Blackmail."
"I don't suppose for a minute she thinks she's blackmailing you. She's
just trying it on.... And she may raise her price, too. She won't rest
till she's got that five hundred out of you."
Mrs. Levitt's next communication would appear to have supported
Barbara's suspicion, for Mr. Waddington was compelled to answer it thus:
"DEAR MRS. LEVITT:
"You say you were 'right then' and that my 'promises' were
'conditional'"--
(You could tell where the inverted commas came by the biting clip of his
tone.)
--"I fail to appreciate the point of this allusion. I cannot imagine
what conditions you refer to. I made none. As for promises, I am not
responsible for the somewhat restricted interpretation you see fit to
put on a friend's general expressions of goodwill.
"Yours truly,
"HORATIO BYSSHE WADDINGTON."
His last letter, a day later, never got as far as its signature.
"DEAR MADAM:
"My decision will not be affected by the contingency you suggest. You
are at perfect liberty to say what you like. Nobody will believe you."
"That, I think, is as far as I can go."
"Much too far," said Barbara.
"And that's taking her too seriously."
"Much. You mustn't send that letter."
"Why not?"
"Because it gives you away."
"Gives me away? It seems to me most guarded."
"It isn't. It implies that there _are_ things she might say. Even if you
don't mind her saying them you mustn't put it in writing."
"Ah-h. There's something in that. Of course, I could threaten her with a
lawyer's letter. But somehow--The fact is, Barbara, if you're a
decent man you're handicapped in dealing with a lady. Delicacy. There
are things that could be said. Material things--most material to the
case. But I can't say them."
"No. You can't say them. But I can. I think I could stop the whole thing
in five minutes, if I saw Mrs. Levitt. Will you leave it to me?"
"Come--I don't know--"
"Why not? I assure you it'll be all right."
"Well. Perhaps. It's a matter of business. A pure matter of business."
"It certainly is that. There's no reason why you shouldn't hand it over
to your secretary."
He hesitated. He was still afraid of what Elise might say to Barbara.
"You will understand that she is in a very unbalanced state. Excitable.
A woman in that state is apt to put interpretations on the most
innocent--er--acts."
"She won't be able to put on any after I've done with her. If it comes
to that, I can put on interpretations too."
Mr. Waddington then, at Barbara's dictation, wrote a short note to Mrs.
Levitt inviting her to call and see him that afternoon at three o'clock.
2
At three o'clock Barbara was ready for her.
She had assumed for the occasion her War Office manner, that firm
sweetness with which she used to stand between importunate interviewers
and her chief. It had made her the joy of her department.
"Mr. Waddington is extremely sorry he is not able to see you himself. He
is engaged with his agent at the moment."
Mr. Waddington had, indeed, created that engagement.
"Engaged? But I have an appointment."
"Yes. He's very sorry. He said if there was anything I could do for
you--"
"Thank you, Miss Madden. If it's all the same to you, I'd much rather
see Mr. Waddington himself. I can wait."
"I wouldn't advise you to. I'm afraid he may be a long time. He has some
very important business on hand just now."
"_My_ business," said Mrs. Levitt, "is very important."
"Oh, if it's only business," Barbara said, "I think we can settle it at
once. I've had most of the correspondence in my hands and I think I know
all the circumstances."
"You have had the correspondence in your hands?"
"Well, you see, I'm Mr. Waddington's secretary. That's what I'm here
for."
"I didn't know he trusted his private business to his secretary."
"He's obliged to. He has so much of it. You surely don't expect him to
copy out his own letters?"
"I don't expect him to hand over my letters to other people to read."
"I haven't read your letters, Mrs. Levitt. I've merely taken down his
answers to copy out and file for reference."
"Then, my dear Miss Madden, you don't know all the circumstances."
"At any rate, I can tell you what Mr. Waddington intends to do and what
he doesn't. You want to see him, I suppose, about the loan for the
investment?"
Mrs. Levitt was too profoundly disconcerted to reply.
Barbara went on in her firm sweetness. "I know he's very sorry not to be
able to do more, but, as you know, he did not advise the investment and
he can't possibly advance anything for it beyond the fifty pounds he has
already paid you."
"Since you know so much about it," said Mrs. Levitt with a certain calm,
subdued truculence, "you may as well know everything. You are quite
mistaken in supposing that Mr. Waddington did not advise the investment.
On the contrary, it was on his representations that I decided to invest.
And it was on the strength of the security he offered that my solicitors
advanced me the money. He is responsible for the whole business; he has
made me enter into engagements that I cannot meet without him, and when
I ask him to fulfil his pledges he lets me down."
"I don't think Mr. Waddington knows that your solicitors advanced the
money. There is no reference to them in the correspondence."
"I think, if you'll look through your _files_, or if Mr. Waddington will
look through his, you'll find you are mistaken."
"I can tell Mr. Waddington what you've told me and let you know what he
says. If you don't mind waiting a minute I can let you know now."
She sought out Mr. Waddington in his office--luckily it was situated in
the kitchen wing, the one farthest from the library. She found him alone
in it (the agent had gone), sitting in a hard Windsor chair. He knew
that Elise couldn't pursue him into his office; it was even doubtful
whether she knew where it was. He had retreated into it as into some
impregnable position.
Not that he looked safe. His face sagged more than ever, as though the
Postlethwaite nose had withdrawn its support from that pale flesh of
funk. If it had any clear meaning at all it expressed a terrified
expectation of blackmail. His very moustache and hair drooped
lamentably.
"Are you disengaged?" she said.
"Yes. But for God's sake don't tell her that."
"It's all right. She knows she isn't going to see you."
"Well?"
She felt the queer, pathetic clinging of his mind to her as if it
realized that she held his honour and Fanny's happiness in her hands.
"She's not going to give up that five hundred without a struggle."
"The deuce she isn't. On what grounds does she claim it?"
"She says you advised her to make a certain investment, and that you
promised to lend her half the sum she wanted."
"I made no promise. I said, 'Perhaps that sum might be forthcoming.' I
made it very clear that it would depend on circumstances."
"On circumstances that she understood--knew about?"
"Er--on circumstances that--No. She didn't know about them."
"Still, you made conditions?"
"No. I made--a mental reservation."
"She seems to be aware of the circumstances that influenced you. She
thinks you've gone back on your word."
"I have gone back on nothing. My word's sacred. The woman lies."
"She sticks to it that the promise was made, that on the strength of it
she invested a certain sum of money through her solicitors, that they
advanced the money on that security and you advised the investment."
"I did not advise it. I advised her to give it up. I wrote to her. You
took down the letter.... No, you didn't. I copied that one myself."
"Have you got it? I'd better show it her."
"Yes. It's--it's--confound it, it's in my private drawer."
"Can't I find it?"
He hesitated. He didn't like the idea of anybody, even little Barbara,
rummaging in his private drawer, but he had to choose the lesser of two
evils, and that letter would put the matter beyond a doubt.
"Here's the key," he said, and gave it her. "It's dated October the
thirtieth or thirty-first. But it's all humbug. I've reason to believe
that money was never invested at all. It's all debts. She hasn't a leg
to stand on. Not a leg."
"Not a stump," said Barbara. "Leave her to me."
She went back to the library. Mrs. Levitt's face lifted itself in
excited questioning.
"One moment, Mrs. Levitt."
After a slightly prolonged search in Mr. Waddington's private drawer she
found the letter of October tie thirty-first, and returned with it to
the office. It was very short and clear:
"MY DEAR ELISE:
"I cannot promise anything--it depends on circumstances. But if you sent
me the name and address of your solicitors it might help."
"Take it," he said, "and show it her."
3
Barbara went back again to the library and her final battle with Elise.
This time she had armed herself with the cheque books.