MR. AND MRS. CURTIS.
It was about two o'clock on the following afternoon that a
travelling-carriage with four posters thundered along Baker Street, to
the great admiration of that semi-fashionable neighbourhood, and at
length stopped at a house the door of which was immediately opened by a
footman wearing a livery of such varied colours that the rainbow was
nothing to it.
Divers countenances appeared at the windows of the neighbouring
dwellings; for it would seem that the travelling-carriage—or rather the
persons whom it contained, were an object of curiosity and interest to
the elderly ladies in turbans in the drawing-rooms and the servant-maids
in the garrets, the latter of whom completely flattened their noses
against the panes in their anxiety to obtain a view of the fashionably
dressed gentlemen who handed the magnificently attired lady from the
vehicle, while the footman in the transcendent livery assisted the
lady's-maid to alight from the high seat behind.
And since all the neighbourhood of Baker Street appears to know right
well who the arrivals are, we shall not affect any mystery with our
readers; but plainly, distinctly, and at once declare that the
fashionably dressed gentleman was Mr. Frank Curtis, and the
magnificently attired lady was Mrs. Curtis, late Mrs. Goldberry.
This excellent couple had just returned home, after passing their
honeymoon in the country, as all rich and fashionable people are bound
to do; and five little Goldberrys were crowding at the front door to
welcome their mamma and their "new papa." These specimens of the
Goldberry race formed, in respect to their ages, an ascending scale
commencing with Number 5 and terminating with Number 13, and exhibiting
as much pleasing variety as could possibly exist in the pug-nose species
and the chubby-face genus.
These delightful children set up a perfect yell of joy, which was heard
at least ten houses off, when their "new papa" assisted their old mamma
to alight from the carriage; for Mrs. Goldberry could not be said to be
_young_, she being on the shady side of forty, though blessed with such
a juvenile family.
"Happy is the _man_," says the psalmist, meaning also _woman_, "who hath
his quiver full of them:" but Mrs. Goldberry fancied that it rather
spoilt the effect of a bride's return, to behold a hall full of them.
Nevertheless, she gave them each a maternal hug; and the youngest set up
a shout because she did not give him a box of toys into the bargain.
Let us suppose half an hour to have elapsed since the return of the
"happy pair." At the expiration of that period we shall find them seated
in the drawing-room, enjoying a pleasant _tête-à-tête_ chat until the
early dinner which had been ordered should be duly announced by the
rainbow-excelling footman.
Mrs. Goldberry was, as above stated, a trifle past forty; although she
never acknowledged to more than thirty-one. She was somewhat stout, had
coarse masculine features, a tolerably good set of teeth, certainly fine
eyes, and was as yet independent of the adventitious aids of the
wig-maker and rouge manufacturer. Little of her history was known by Mr.
Curtis until the period (a few weeks previously to the marriage) when he
became acquainted with her through the simple process of picking up her
youngest boy who happened to fall into some mud one day when the lady
and her children were taking a walk in the vicinity of Baker Street.
This little act of politeness on the part of Frank had naturally led to
the exchange of a few observations; the exchange of a few observations
brought Mrs. Goldberry to her own door; her own door admitted her into
the house, whither Frank was politely invited to follow her; the
following her in was followed by the serving up of luncheon; the
luncheon led to increased communicativeness; and the communicativeness
made Frank aware that his new acquaintance was the widow of the late Mr.
Goldberry, gentleman, and the undisputed possessor of a clear income of
five thousand a year. Glorious news this for Frank, who suffered the
lady to understand that he enjoyed a similar income; and then they
laughed a great deal at the funny coincidence. When Frank took his
leave, he requested permission to call again; and this favour could not
be refused to a gentleman who had picked the child out of the mud and
who had five thousand a year. Thus frequent visits led to tender
proposals; the tender proposals ended in marriage; and the marriage
ended in——
But we were going on much too fast; and therefore we must pause at the
point indicated ere we commenced this brief digression—namely, at the
_tête-à-tête_ discourse while awaiting the announcement of dinner.
"Well, my love," said Frank, "here we are once more in London. Upon my
word, there's nothing like London after all—as my friend the Earl of
Blackwall says."
"And yet I think we were very comfortable in the country, Frank?"
observed Mrs. Curtis, late Mrs. Goldberry, with a simper as fascinating
as she could possible render a grimace formed by a large mouth.
"Oh! but you and I can be happy any where, dear," said Frank. "We
mustn't remain in Baker Street, though: I shall take a slap-up house in
Grosvenor Square, if I can get one there: at all events, somewhere more
in the fashionable quarter. Now, I'll tell you what I've been thinking
of—and I'm sure that you'll approve of my plan. You see, there's all
those dear children of your's—I'm sure I love them as well as if I was
their real father, the darlings——"
"You're quite a duck, Frank," exclaimed Mrs. Curtis, tapping him
slightly on the face.
"Well—I don't think I'm a bad fellow at all," continued the young
gentleman, smoothing down his hair very complacently; "And the plan I'm
going to propose to you will prove it. Indeed, it's just what my very
particular friend the Marquis of Woolwich did, when he married under
similar circumstances—I mean a lady with a young family."
"And what did his lordship do?" inquired Mrs. Curtis.
"He made this arrangement with his wife," explained Frank:—"All his own
property was to be left in the funds to accumulate for the benefit of
the children—never to be touched—to be locked up like a rat in a trap,
as one may say; and the lady's property was to serve for the household
and all other expenses. Now, this is just what I propose we shall do. My
hundred and forty thousand pounds shall be so locked up; and your
income, my love, will do for us to live upon. In fact, I'll make a will
to-morrow, settling all my fortune on you in case you survive me, or on
the children at your death."
It is astonishing how blank Mrs. Curtis's countenance became as her
beloved husband proposed this arrangement: but she managed to hide her
confusion from him by means of her handkerchief, while he flattered
himself that his generous consideration of her children had drawn tears
from her eyes.
"This little arrangement will decidedly be the best," continued Frank;
"and I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that your dear children
are well provided for. In fact, it was but the day before the happy one
which united us, that I met my friend the Duke of Gravesend, and he was
advising me how to act in the matter, saying what he had done, as I told
you just now. And his Grace's authority is no mean one, I can assure
you, my dear. But you don't answer me: what are you thinking about?"
Mrs. Curtis was thinking of a great deal;—a horrible idea had struck
her. Was it possible that Frank's vaunted property was all moonshine,
and that he was now inventing a means of concealing this fact from her.
She had been vain enough to suppose all along that he was enamoured of
her person far more than of her alleged five thousand a year; and he had
given her so many assurances of the disinterestedness of his affection,
that she had congratulated herself on hooking him most completely. She
knew that he was the nephew of the rich Sir Christopher Blunt, and had
readily believed, therefore, that he himself was rich also; and,
experienced though she were in the ways of the world, she had not
instituted any inquiries to ascertain the truth of his assertions
relative to his property. In a word, she fancied she had caught a green,
foolish, but wealthy young fellow; whereas she was now seized with the
frightful apprehension that she had laboured under a complete delusion.
And this alarm was the more terrible, as the reader may conceive when we
inform him that she herself was a mere adventuress—without a farthing of
annual income derivable from any certain source—and overwhelmed with
debts, her creditors having only been kept quiet for the last few weeks
by her representations that she was about to marry a young gentleman of
fortune. In a word, she had only taken the house in Baker Street on the
hopeful speculation of catching some amorous old gentleman of property:
and she had deemed herself particularly fortunate when she received the
proposals of an amourous _young_ gentleman who, in the course of
conversation, happened to intimate that he possessed five thousand a
year.
Mrs. Curtis's confusion and terror,—nay, absolute horror, may therefore
be well conceived, when the dreadful suspicion that she herself was as
much taken in as her husband, flashed to her mind.
"You don't answer," repeated Frank: "what the deuce _are_ you thinking
of?"
"I was thinking, my love," replied the lady, subduing her feelings as
well as she could, and still clinging to the faint hope that all might
not be so bad as she apprehended,—"I was thinking, my love, that your
arrangement is not feasible, for this simple reason—that _my_ fortune is
so locked up and settled on my children, I can only touch the dividends:
and I shall have nothing to receive till July. Moreover, I run very
short at my banker's now—indeed, I believe I have overdrawn them—and so,
all things considered, it will be impossible, and unnecessary even if
possible, to carry your generous proposal into effect."
[Illustration]
"I didn't know your money was so locked up!" exclaimed Frank, looking
mightily stupid, in spite of his strenuous endeavours to appear
perfectly happy and contented. "I thought your fortune was at your own
disposal?"
"Certainly—the interest," responded Mrs. Curtis, now finding by her
husband's manner that her worst fears were considerably strengthened.
"The devil!" murmured Frank petulantly.
"What did you say, dearest?" asked the lady.
"Oh! nothing, love—only that it doesn't signify at all, so long as we
have the interest of the money settled on your children—and that's five
thousand a year."
"Which, with your five thousand a year, makes us ten, love," added the
lady, eyeing him askance.
"To be sure!" said Frank: and, walking to the window, he hummed a tune
to conceal his desperate vexation.
This worthy pair had, however, each a consolation left—one real, the
other imaginary.
The real consolation was on the side of the lady, who had saved herself
from the danger of a debtor's prison by marrying Mr. Curtis. The
imaginary consolation was the idea which this gentleman nourished that
his amiable spouse enjoyed at all events the annual income of five
thousand pounds. Moreover, as he glanced round the elegantly furnished
drawing-room, and in imagination at all the other apartments in the
dwelling, he thought to himself, "Well, hang it! with five thousand a
year and this splendid house, I think I can manage to make myself pretty
comfortable. Of course every thing's paid for—and that's a blessing!"
Scarcely had Mr. Curtis disposed of this solacing reflection, when the
livery servant entered to announce that "dinner was served up."
Frank offered his arm to his lady in the most jaunty manner
possible—for, as the reader may suppose, he had many reasons to induce
him to be uncommonly attentive to one who (as he thought) held the
purse; and the lady, on her side, accepted in a most charming manner the
homage thus paid her—because she was not as yet quite certain that her
husband's property was really aerial, and even if it should prove so, he
must become the scapegoat between herself and her ravenous creditors.
Indeed the little tokens of endearment which the "happy couple" thought
it fit to lavish upon each other as they descended the stairs, created
such huge delight on the part of the livery servant following them, that
this individual, totally forgetting the dignity which should have
accompanied such a gorgeous livery, actually and positively diverted
himself by means of that wonderful arrangement of the hands commonly
called "taking a sight."
The dinner passed off in the usual way; and when the cloth was removed
and the domestic was about to retire, Frank exclaimed in an
authoritative manner, "John, bring up a bottle of claret."
"Yes, sir—claret, sir?" said the servant, fidgetting about near the
door, and glancing uneasily towards his mistress, who did not however
happen to observe him.
"I specified claret as plain as I could speak, John," cried Mr. Curtis
angrily; "and so make haste about it."
"Yes, sir,—only—" again hesitated the domestic.
"Only what?" vociferated Frank.
"Only there ain't none, sir," was the answer.
"No claret, John?" cried Mrs. Curtis, now taking part in the discussion.
"No ma'am. There was but two bottles of wine left when you went away,
ma'am—with master—and them's the Port and Sherry on the table now
ma'am."
"John, you must be mistaken!" exclaimed Frank. "Your mistress assured me
that the cellar was well stocked——"
"Yes, my dear," interrupted Mrs. Curtis: "and I was so far right in
telling you what I did, because on the very morning—the happy morning,
dear, you know—when we went away, I wrote to Mr. Beeswing, my
wine-merchant—or rather _our_ wine-merchant, I should say—to order in a
good stock of Port, Sherry, Champagne, and Claret."
"And what the devil, then, does Mr. Beeswing mean by this cursed
neglect?" cried Frank. "There's Log, Wood, and Juice, my friend Lord
Paddington's wine-merchants, who would be delighted to serve us. Did you
know of this order, John, that your mistress gave?"
"Ye-e-s, sir—I did," was the stammering reply, delivered with much
diffidence and many twirlings of the white napkin.
"Well, my dear—it is no use to make ourselves uncomfortable about the
business," said Mrs. Curtis, evidently anxious to quash the subject at
once. "You can put up with what there is to-day; and to-morrow you can
give an order to your noble friend's wine-merchants. That will do,
John—you can retire."
"No—by God! that will not do!" vociferated Frank. "This fellow Beeswing
has behaved most shamefully. It's a regular insult—as the Prince of
Gibraltar would call it! But I dare say he forgot it: and since you knew
of the order, John, why the devil didn't you see that it was executed
while we were away?"
"My dear——" began Mrs. Curtis, in a tone of remonstrance.
"Answer me, you fellow!" cried Frank, turning in a threatening way
towards the domestic, and unable to resist the opportunity of indulging
his bullying propensities. "Why the devil didn't you attend to the order
given by your mistress?"
"Well, sir—and so I did," responded the servant, now irritated by the
imperious manner of his master. "I went a dozen times to Beeswing's
while you and missus was away."
"Frank, dear—do leave this to me," urged the lady.
"No, my dear—this concerns me, as the master of the house," exclaimed
Frank, looking very pompous and very fierce. "Well, John—and what the
deuce did Beeswing say when you did see him?"
"Please, sir, he said he'd rayther not," was the astounding answer.
Mr. Frank Curtis looked aghast.
"I always knew he was the most insulting fellow in the world—that
Beeswing!" cried the lady, colouring deeply and affecting violent
indignation. "But we will never deal with him again, I vow and declare!
John, tell him to send in his bill——at once, mind——"
"He has, ma'am," interrupted the servant "In fact, there's a many
letters waiting for master."
"Then why the devil didn't you give them to me before?" exclaimed Frank,
not knowing precisely what to think of Mr. Beeswing's conduct, but in a
very bad humour on account of the disappointment relative to the claret.
John, the servant, made no reply to the question last put to him, but
advancing towards the table, produced from his pocket about thirty
letters and other documents, all of which he laid before his master, his
countenance the while wearing a most curious and very sinister
expression, as much as to say, "You're a very bumptious kind of a young
man; but these papers will, perhaps, bring you down a peg or two."
"You may retire," said Frank, savagely; and this intimation was
forthwith obeyed. "Very curious conduct, that of Beeswing, my dear?"
continued Mr. Curtis, as soon as the door had closed behind the servant.
"Very, dear—I can't make it out," responded Mrs. Curtis. "But pray don't
bother yourself with those letters and papers now. They can't be very
particular; and you will have more time to-morrow, dear."
"Oh! I can look over them, and we can go on talking all the same," said
Frank: "because I can't think how the deuce so many letters should be
addressed to me _here_—instead of at my own place;—I mean, I shouldn't
have thought that such a lot of my friends would have already heard of
our union, love," he added, with a tender glance towards the lady, who
was sitting very much in the style figuratively represented in common
parlance as being "on thorns."
And Mr. Curtis's visual rays, having thus benignly bent themselves on
his companion, were once more fixed on the pile of letters and documents
lying before him.
The lady tossed off a bumper of Port, and filled her glass again, in an
evident fit of painful nervousness; while her husband opened the first
letter, the contents of which ran as follow:—
_Oxford Street._
"SIR,
"We beg to enclose our account for furniture supplied to Mrs.
Curtis, late Mrs. Goldberry, and respectfully solicit an early
settlement, as the bill has been running for a considerable time.
"Your obedient Servants,
"TUFFLE and TUNKS."
"The devil!" ejaculated Frank, as he cast his eyes over the inclosure:
"'_Bill delivered_, £876 6_s._ 6_d._' God bless my soul! that's a
stinger! Why, I thought all the furniture must have been paid for, my
dear?"
"Not exactly, love—you perceive," returned the lady. "One never pays an
upholsterer's bill for so long a time, you know: indeed—it quite slipped
my memory, it's such a trifle!"
"Well, so it is, dear," observed Frank, reassured by the calm and
indifferent way in which his wife disposed of _the trifle_: and he
proceeded to open another letter, which announced a second trifle in the
ensuing manner:—
_Furnival's Inn._
"SIR,
"We are desired by Messieurs Ore and Dross, jewellers, to apply to
you for the payment of 377_l._ 10_s._ being the amount of debt
contracted by your present wife, late Mrs. Goldberry, with our
clients; and unless the same be paid, together with 6_s._ 8_d._ for
cost of this application, within three days from the date hereof, we
shall be compelled to have recourse to ulterior measures without
farther notice.
"Your obedient Servants,
"DAWKINS and SMASHER."
"What a thundering lot of jewellery you must have, to be sure, dear!"
exclaimed Frank, as he handed this letter to his wife. "But, 'pon my
soul! I think you've been rather extravagant, love—haven't you?"
"Oh! my dear—ladies _must_ have jewellery, you know," returned Mrs.
Curtis; "and, after all I have paid Ore and Dross, I really am surprised
at their importunity. But we will pay them, and have done with them,
dear."
"So we will, love," responded Frank; "and I'll ask my friend the Duke of
Hampstead to recommend _his_ jeweller to us. But here's a precious
letter! Why—what the deuce? There's a dozen pawnbroker's tickets in it,
I declare!"
Mrs. Curtis fell back almost senseless in her chair, while her husband
perused the ensuing letter:—
"i rite maddam 2 inform u that I can't sel the dewplikets wich u
Placed in mi ands as seckeuraty for mi Bil and has u've married a
gent wich as propperti i ope u'll now settel my Bil wich as bin a
runnin for 18 munce and i ope u'll settel it soon leastways as soon
has u cum ome becaus i ham in rale want of it being a loan widder
wich as lorst mi Usban 2 yere cum missummer an having 5 young
childern an another cumming bi axident but i shan't do so no more an
shal be verry appy to go on washin for u wen u've pade this Bil wich
is thirty fore pouns thrippense dere maddam pray do this 2 oblege me
the instunt u cum ome u can send it upp by mr jon yure futman or els
mi Littel gal shal wate on u at anny our u no i've never prest u an
i tuk the dewplikits 2 oblege u but coodn't dew nuththink with them
an now they've run out and its no falt of mine becaus i'd no munny
to pay the interesk and u was gorn out of town with ure new usban
wich i ear is a very fine young man wich I'm glad to ear for ure sak
dere maddam eggskews this long letter becaus the doctor should say i
shal be konfined this weak an its hard lines to ave no munney at
such a time i arn't sent ome the last batch of linning becaus i ware
obleged to mak a way with it butt I send the dewplikit of that has
wel has the dewplikit of the wotch and chane an other trinklets wich
i ope u'll reseave saf an now as u'r all rite and r a ritch wumman
u'll not be angree with me for puttin ure linning upp the spont att
such a crittikal moment dere maddam pray eggskews this riting wich i
no is verry bad butt mi pen is verry bad an ime in grate pane wile i
rite ure obejent umbal servant kummarn susan
spriggs.
mary lee bone
"Mrs. Kirtis lane wigmore strete
baker cavenditch
strete squair."
"Madam, it's all a cursed plant!" vociferated Frank Curtis, starting
from his seat, and throwing down the letter, during the perusal of which
he had been scarcely able to control his impatience. "I see it all—it's
a cursed imposition—an infernal plant—and I'm a—a—damned fool!"
Thus speaking, the young gentleman shook his better half violently by
the shoulders; and she, having nothing to urge in explanation of the
extraordinary letter of her washerwoman, screamed just loud enough to
appear hysterical without alarming the servants and went off into a fit,
as a matter of course.
"Fooled—duped—done brown, by God!" exclaimed Curtis, as he began to pace
the room with no affected agitation. "Saddled with a wife and five
children—overwhelmed with her debts and my own—and, what's a deuced
sight worse, made an ass of! I've regularly sold myself, as my friend
the Duke——no, damn the Duke! I'm in no humour for Dukes and that kind of
nonsense now—I don't know a Duke, and never did—and never shall—and so
it's no use telling a parcel of lies any more! Plague take this old cat
with her half-dozen brats—or near upon that number——"
"And plague take you, then!" screeched the newly-married lady,
recovering with most surprising abruptness from her fit, and starting up
like a fury. "Why, you swindling scoundrel, how dare you call me names?
I'll tear your eyes out, I will, if you say over again what you've just
said."
"I say you're a regular adventuress!" cried Frank.
"And you are an impostor—a cheat!" yelled the lady.
"Your fortune is all a gammon!" exclaimed Curtis.
"And your's all moonshine!" retorted his wife.
"You've taken me in shameful!"
"And you've done the same to me!"
"You're——" cried Frank, nearly suffocated with rage.
"And so are you, whatever you're going to call me!" vociferated the late
Mrs. Goldberry.
Curtis was unable to give forth any rejoinder; and Mrs. Curtis, resuming
her seat, had recourse to the truly feminine alternative of bursting
into tears.
A long pause ensued, constituting a truce to recriminations and
vituperations for several minutes, and affording the pair leisure for
reflection.
We will describe the ideas that gradually expanded in their minds, as
such explanation will the more easily prepare the reader for the result
of the quarrel.
Frank Curtis, on his side, recognized the grand truth, that what was
done could not be undone; and then he came to the philosophical
conviction, that it would be prudent to make the best of a bad job. He
reflected on the folly of an exposure, which would be attended with
immediate ruin;—bringing about his ears a host of creditors, who would
only become the more clamorous when they were brought in contact with
each other, and were placed in a condition to ascertain their number and
compare the amounts of their claims. He fancied that by allowing himself
to be represented as a man of property his wife might silence the
creditors for a time, during which the war could be carried on; and
though an explosion must sooner or later take place, yet it was some
consolation to the young gentleman to think that the evil day might be
postponed by keen manœuvring and skilful generalship. He feared being
laughed at much more than the idea of a debtor's prison; and delay was
every thing to a man in his desperate circumstances. "There was no
telling what might turn up;" and he thought that if he could only dazzle
the eyes of his uncle Sir Christopher with fine stories relative to the
brilliancy of the match which he had formed with the late Mrs.
Goldberry, he might contrive to wheedle a large sum of money out of the
old gentleman on some such pretext as a desire to discharge divers
debts, and a disinclination to confess to his wife that he had
contracted them.
On the other hand, Mrs. Curtis fell into a similar train of thought. It
would, she fancied, be easy for her to visit the numerous creditors,
assure them that she had as yet intercepted all the letters they had
written to her husband, and implore them not to ruin her in his good
opinion by exposing her liabilities to him. She even arranged in her
head the very words which she would use when calling on them:—"My
husband is about to sell an estate in Ireland, and the moment the
purchase money is paid, I am sure to be enabled to obtain from him a sum
sufficient to liquidate all my debts. Have a little forbearance,
therefore, and all will be well." Thus _she_ also recognised the utter
inutility and monstrous folly of exposing themselves by means of
quarrels; and as their minds were, by these parallel systems of
reasoning, prepared for reconciliation—or at least the show of it—the
making up of their dispute was no very difficult matter.
Frank was the one to break the ice with the first overture.
"Well, I think we're two pretty fools," he said, approaching the chair
in which she was rocking herself to and fro: "don't you?"
"To alarm all the house, and let our servants know every thing," added
the lady.
"No—no: it isn't so bad as _that_ yet," returned Frank. "But I vote that
we have no more quarrels."
"I am sure I agree to the proposition, Frank," was the answer.
"It's carried then, without a dissentient voice," exclaimed Curtis; "as
my friend the Duke——"
"Let us have no more falsehoods," interrupted his wife. "You said just
now that you knew no Duke—never had known one—and never should——"
"But I thought you was in a fit at that moment, my dear?" said Frank.
"Maybe I was—but still I could hear all that passed, as you very well
know. However, let us be good friends, and hold a consultation how we
are to proceed."
"Good!" cried Frank. "And we will begin with a glass of wine each.
There—let us drink each other's health. Here's to you, my dear. And now
to business. I suppose all these letters and bills are about unpaid
debts of yours?"
"Precisely so, love," answered Mrs. Curtis.
"How much do you think they amount to?"
"About eighteen hundred pounds, I should say?"
"And how much money have you got towards paying them, dear?" inquired
Frank.
"Eighteen-pence, love," responded the lady, extracting that sum from her
pocket.
There was a pause, during which Frank Curtis refilled the glasses; and
then the "happy pair" looked inquiringly at each other, as much as to
ask, "Well, what shall we do?"
"This is devilish awkward!" observed Frank. "But I'll tell you what I've
been thinking of."
"I am all attention, dear," said his better half.
Mr. Curtis then conveyed in words the substance of those reflections
which we have recorded above, and which had bent his mind towards a
reconciliation.
"I entirely approve of all you say," remarked Mrs. Curtis; "and I will
now tell you what I have been thinking of."
"Fire away, love," was her husband's encouraging observation.
The lady detailed, in her turn, the reflections which had occupied her
mind a few minutes previously.
"Then we both hold the same opinions?" exclaimed Frank.
"Exactly. And if we play our cards well, there is no immediate danger of
any thing," remarked the lady.
"But all the threatened writs—the probability of a sudden arrest—and the
clamours of such small tradesmen or other persons as your delectable
washerwoman, who is about to add to her family two years after the death
of her husband?" exclaimed Frank interrogatively.
"I have trinkets, plate, and such like things which will realise a
hundred pounds," said Mrs. Curtis; "and with that sum we can settle the
little claimants, who are always more noisy and clamourous than the
large ones."
The colloquy had just reached this highly satisfactory point, when a
tremendous double knock threatened to beat in the front door, and the
bell was instantaneously afterwards set ringing in frantic
accompaniment.
"Some one's ill," cried Frank, "and they take this house for a
Doctor's."
"At all events it is no dun," observed Mrs. Curtis.
Here the thundering knock and insane ring were repeated.
"I just tell you what, my dear," resumed the young gentleman, rising
from his chair, and looking as fierce as possible: "I've a deuced great
mind to go out and ask who the devil it is that dares knock and ring
twice in half a minute at our door in that fashion. I'm certain it's no
friend of your's—and it's none of mine. So—as sure as my name is Francis
Curtis, Esquire, of Baker Street—I'll—"
But at this instant the dining-room door was thrown open by the domestic
in gorgeous livery; and the countenance of the warlike Francis Curtis,
Esquire, of Baker Street, grew white as a sheet, when the servant
announced—"CAPTAIN O'BLUNDERBUSS!"