‘It is most painful!’ gasped Mrs Maggleby. ‘What can we do, Gideon? You
must manage to meet Solomon at Gravesend. Look in the newspaper, and
see whether the _Camel_ has been signalled yet. He must hear first of
what has happened either from my lips or from yours; and I am really
not well enough to go myself. I thought that he was lying cold in
his coffin. Oh, that I should have committed bigamy! I ought to have
remained faithful to his memory. This is my punishment. But he must—he
shall forgive me.’
Mr Doddard had gone into the outer office, and had sent a clerk for
a copy of the _Times_. With this he now returned; and the paper was
opened on Mr Maggleby’s table, and eagerly scanned for news of the
_Camel_.
‘Here we have it!’ said Mr Doddard at last. ‘“Steamship _Camel_, from
Demerara to London, with cargo and passengers, was signalled off Dover
at one o’clock this morning.”—Then Mr Pudster will be at Gravesend in
an hour or two, sir.’
‘Go, Gideon, go!’ exclaimed Mrs Maggleby. ‘Lose no time. Take a special
train if necessary. Tell him all, and implore his forgiveness.’
‘Yes, I think I had better go, Maria,’ said Mr Maggleby. ‘I will send
a clerk home with you, and will telegraph to you as soon as I see
your—your late husband. In the meantime, try to be calm. Please tell
them to call a cab, Doddard.’
Mr Doddard returned to the outer office, and despatched a messenger for
two cabs. Mr Maggleby handed Mrs Maggleby into one of them, and a clerk
followed her. Then the unfortunate man went back for a moment to his
private room to study Bradshaw on the best and speediest route from
London to Gravesend. There was a train at a quarter past eleven. It was
then a quarter to eleven.
‘And when will he be at Gravesend?’ asked Mr Maggleby.
Mr Doddard turned again to the _Times_. But instead of at once lighting
upon the shipping news, his eye fell upon a paragraph that occupied
a not very conspicuous position at the foot of the page. Suddenly he
uttered a cry.
‘What’s the matter, Doddard?’ demanded Mr Maggleby, who was rapidly
growing impatient.
Mr Doddard replied by bursting into a paroxysm of laughter. ‘By Jove!’
he exclaimed, ‘this is too ridiculous! I never heard of such a thing in
my life! It is like a play! Ha, ha, ha!’
‘Your merriment is rather ill-timed,’ cried Mr Maggleby reproachfully.
‘Tell me when Mr Pudster will arrive at Gravesend; and be quick, or I
shall lose that train.’
‘A _pump_, too!’ continued the head-clerk hilariously.
‘You’re mad, I think,’ said Mr Maggleby. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, read this, sir,’ answered Mr Doddard, and he handed the _Times_
to his principal and pointed to the paragraph.
Mr Maggleby testily took the paper, adjusted his spectacles, and read:
‘EXTRAORDINARY DISCOVERY AT PLYMOUTH.—The corporation of Plymouth
recently decided to remove an old and disused pump which for many
years has stood handleless and dry on the Hoe. Yesterday morning,
some workmen proceeded to remove it, and in its interior they were
astonished to discover a number of letters, which had, it is supposed,
been put into the hole into which the handle formerly fitted, under the
delusion that the pump was a post-office pillar letter-box. The letters
were at once taken to the Plymouth post-office, and were without delay
forwarded to their destinations.’
‘Can it be true?’ ejaculated Mr Maggleby, with a great sigh of relief.
‘Then the fact of the _Camel_ having been signalled last night off
Dover is merely a coincidence?’
‘Most certainly,’ said Mr Doddard.
‘Thank Heaven!’ cried Mr Maggleby fervently. ‘Send the cab away,
Doddard. But no! I’ll go home again at once, and set my poor wife
at ease. Ha, ha! I do remember now, that when poor Mr Pudster came
home from his last voyage, he discovered that some letters which he
had posted at Plymouth had not been delivered. We didn’t miss them,
because, as you recollect, Doddard, he wrote again from Southampton.’
‘Of course he did, sir,’ said Mr Doddard. ‘Well, let us congratulate
ourselves. It would have been a fearful business for Mrs Maggleby to
have to go through.’
‘And it would have been bad for you, Doddard, for it would have spoilt
your chance of a partnership for some time to come. Now, I’m off.’
Mr Maggleby put the _Times_ in his pocket, and departed; and when he
reached his home and showed the paper to his wife, the couple sat
together for at least half an hour, talking over the extraordinary
nature of the adventure.
‘Well, we shall be able to go to Madame Tussaud’s and the theatre after
all, Maria,’ said Mr Maggleby at luncheon.
And go they did; and what is more, Mr Doddard became a partner a
fortnight later, the firm thenceforward being known as Maggleby and
Doddard.