Toward the end of the following week, Mrs. Cross came to the shop. She
had a busy air, and spoke to Warburton in a confidential undertone.
"We have been making inquiries, and at last I think we have heard of
something that might suit your poor friend. This is the address. My
daughter went there this morning, and had a long talk with the woman,
and she thinks it really might do; but perhaps you have already found
something?"
"Nothing at all," answered Will. "I am much obliged to you. I will go
as soon as possible."
"We shall be so glad to hear if it suits," said Mrs. Cross. "Do look in
on Sunday, will you? We are always at home at five o'clock.-- Oh, I
have written out a little list of things," she added, laying her
grocery order on the counter. "Please tell me what they come to."
Warburton gravely took the cash, and Mrs. Cross, with her thinly
gracious smile, bade him good-day.
He did not fail to "look in" on Sunday, and this time he wore his
ordinary comfortable clothing. The rooms recommended for Mr. Potts had
seemed to him just what were needed, and on his own responsibility he
had taken them. Moreover, he had been to Kennington, and had made known
to the nervous old man the arrangements that were proposed for him.
"But will he be allowed to leave?" asked Bertha in her eyes the twinkle
for which Will watched.
"He won't dare, he tells me, to give notice but he'll only have to pay
a week's rent in lieu of it. I have promised to be with him at ten to
morrow morning, to help him to get away. I shall take my heaviest
walking-stick; one must be prepared for every emergency. Glance over
the police news on Tuesday, Mrs. Cross, just to see whether I have come
to harm."
"We shall be very anxious indeed," replied the literal lady, with
pained brow. "Couldn't you let us hear to-morrow evening? I know only
too well what dreadful creatures the women of that class can be. I very
strongly advise you, Mr. Warburton, to be accompanied by a policeman. I
beg you will."
Late on the Monday afternoon, Jollyman's errand boy left a note for
Mrs. Cross. It informed her that all had gone well, though "not without
uproar. The woman shrieked insults from her doorstep after our
departing cab. Poor Mr. Potts was all but paralytic with alarm, but
came round famously at sight of the new lodgings. He wants to thank you
both."
It was on this same evening that Warburton had a visit from Godfrey
Sherwood. A fortnight ago, just after Easter, had taken place the
marriage of Mr. Milligan and Miss Parker; and Sherwood, whilst his
chief was absent on the honeymoon, had run down to the seaside for a
change of air. Tonight, he presented himself unexpectedly, and his face
was the prologue to a moving tale.
"Read that, Warburton--" he held out a letter. "Read that, and tell me
what you think of human nature."
It was a letter from Milligan, who, with many explanations and
apologies, wrote to inform his secretary that the Great Work could not
be pursued, that the vegetarian colony in Ireland, which was to
civilise the world, must--so far as he was concerned--remain a glorious
dream. The fact of the matter was, Mrs. Milligan did not like it. She
had tried vegetarianism; it did not suit her health; moreover, she
objected to living in Ireland, on account of the dampness of the
climate. Sadly, reluctantly, Mrs. Milligan's husband had to forgo his
noble project. In consequence, he would have no need henceforth of a
secretary, and Sherwood must consider their business relations at an
end.
"He encloses a very liberal cheque," said Godfrey. "But what a
downfall! I foresaw it. I hinted my fears to you as soon as Miss Parker
appeared on the scene. Poor old Milligan! A lost man--sunk in the
commonplace--hopelessly whelmed in vulgar matrimony. Poor old fellow!"
Warburton chuckled.
"But that isn't all," went on the other, "Old Strangwyn is dead, really
dead at last. I wrote several times to him; no acknowledgment of my
letters. Now it's all over. The ten thousand pounds--"
He made a despairing gesture. Then:
"Take that cheque, Warburton. It's all I have; take it, old fellow, and
try to forgive me. You won't? Well, well, if I live, I'll pay you yet;
but I'm a good deal run down, and these disappointments have almost
floored me. To tell you the truth, the vegetarian diet won't do. I feel
as weak as a cat. If you knew the heroism it has cost me, down at the
seaside, to refrain from chops and steaks. Now I give it up. Another
month of cabbage and lentils and I should be sunk beyond recovery. I
give it up. This very night I shall go and have a supper, a real
supper, in town. Will you come with me, old man? What's before me, I
don't know. I have half a mind to go to Canada as farm labourer; it
would be just the thing for my health; but let us go and have one more
supper together, as in the old days. Where shall it be?"
So they went into town, and supped royally, with the result that
Warburton had to see his friend home. Over the second bottle, Godfrey
decided for an agricultural life in the Far West, and Will promised to
speak for him to a friend of his, a lady who had brothers farming in
British Columbia; but, before he went, he must be assured that
Warburton really forgave him the loss of that money. Will protested
that he had forgotten all about it; if any pardon were needed, he
granted it with all his heart. And so with affectionate cordiality they
bade each other good-night.
To his surprise, he received a letter from Sherwood, a day or two
after, seriously returning to the British Columbia project, and
reminding him of his promise. So, on Sunday, Will called for the first
time without invitation at Mrs. Cross', and, being received with no
less friendliness than hitherto, began asking news of Bertha's
brothers; whereupon followed talk upon Canadian farming life, and the
mention of Godfrey Sherwood. Bertha undertook to write on the subject
by the next mail; she thought it likely enough that her brothers might
be able to put Mr. Sherwood into the way of earning a living.
"What do you think we did yesterday?" said Mrs. Cross. "We took the
liberty of calling upon Mr. Potts. We had to go and see Mrs. Bolton, at
Holloway, and, as it was so near, we thought we might venture--using
your name as our introduction. And the poor old gentleman was delighted
to see us--wasn't he, Bertha? Oh, and he is so grateful for our
suggestion of the lodgings."
Bertha's smile betrayed a little disquiet. Perceiving this, Warburton
spoke with emphasis.
"It was kind of you. The old man feels a little lonely in that foreign
region; he's hardly been out of Kennington for forty years. A very kind
thought, indeed."
"I am relieved," said Bertha; "it seemed to me just possible that we
had been guilty of a serious indiscretion. Good intentions are very
dangerous things."
When next Warburton found time to go to Holloway, he heard all about
the ladies' visit. He learnt, moreover, that Mr. Potts had told them
the story of his kindness to the sick lad at St. Kitts, and of his
first visit to Kennington Lane.