Mr Maggleby hastily seized a tepid crumpet, and without the formality
of seating himself at the table, devoured the clammy dainty. Then,
hearing his wife upon the stairs, he rushed like a madman from the
room, and an instant afterwards, left the house and quietly closed the
front-door behind him.
Mrs Maggleby, whose face bore traces of recent weeping, entered the
dining-room as if she expected to find the place tenanted by a ghost.
Discovering, however, that it was empty, she resumed her seat by the
fire, and, with an hysterical outburst, buried her head in her hands.
‘Poor dear Gideon!’ she sobbed. ‘What will become of him and me? We
shall be imprisoned for life; I know we shall. The house will have to
be shut up; the business will go to ruin; the servants will have to
know all. Oh, it is too terrible! But I must compose myself. Gideon
will be coming down, and I must be prepared to break the news to him;’
and with great self-command, Mrs Maggleby wiped her eyes and seated
herself at the table. As she did so, she caught sight of her husband’s
note, which she eagerly opened.
‘He has gone!’ she exclaimed despairingly, when she had read it. ‘I am
left alone to bear the trial!—Ah, Gideon, you little know how cruel you
are. But I must follow you. We must concert measures at once.’
Once more she went up-stairs. She put on her bonnet and cloak; she
covered her flushed face with a thick veil; and without saying a word
to any of her servants, she left the house, and made the best of her
way to the nearest cabstand.
Meantime, Mr Maggleby had been driven to his place of business in
Mincing Lane. He entered his office, and sat down as if dazed, in
his private room. Hearing of his principal’s unexpected arrival, the
head-clerk, Mr John Doddard, almost immediately appeared. He too was
scared and breathless.
‘Read, sir, read!’ he gasped as he thrust an open letter into Mr
Maggleby’s hand.
Mr Maggleby mechanically took the letter, and read aloud as follows:
_On board S.S. Camel, off Plymouth, Tuesday._
DEAR MR DODDARD—As you are probably not expecting me, I send a
line ashore to let you know that I hope to return in time to
be at business at the usual hour on Thursday. Please take care
that there is a good fire in my private room, as a visit to
Demerara always, as you know, renders me particularly sensitive
to cold and damp. I am writing to Mr Maggleby. We have had a
capital voyage so far, but the weather in the Channel threatens
to be rather dirty. I shall land at Gravesend; and if you can
find out when the _Camel_ is likely to be there, you may send
down some one to meet me.—Yours faithfully,