"Excuse me, sir," said Mr. Retallack; "you began by promising—at least by holding out some hope—that Welland might be preserved for Mrs. Harry Carthew and her son. But so far you have told me nothing except that you wish to purchase it yourself."
"I think, rather, that you must have jumped to that conclusion. My dear sir, do I look like a man able to purchase Welland? No, no; I am merely the agent of a friend who is unhappily prevented from treating in person. My dear"—I turned to the waitress who entered at this moment—"would you mind running upstairs and telling Mr. and Mrs. James Carthew that Mr. Addison has ridden home, leaving a packet of notes behind him; and that the person in possession of that packet wishes to see them both—be particular to say 'both'—in private."
"Sir, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Retallack, as the maid shut the door. I turned to find him eyeing me between suspicion and alarm. "Either you have not been frank with me, or you must be ignorant that James Carthew has been no brotherly brother of poor Harry. He is the last man before whom I should care to discuss the purchase of Welland. I have, indeed, more than once suspected him of being in collusion with the Mr. Addison you mention, and, in part, responsible for the disaster into which, as I maintain, that reverend gentleman has hurried my poor friend. If there be any question of James Carthew's purchasing Welland (and I will confess the fear of this has been troubling me) I must decline to listen to it until fate compels me. To-night, with Harry Carthew lying dead in the room above, I will not hear it so much as suggested."
"Then, my excellent Mr. Retallack, do not start suggesting it. Ah, here they are!" said I, pleasantly, as the door opened, and, as I expected, my bald-headed man appeared on the threshold, and was followed by a grim-looking female in a fearsome head-dress compounded of bonnet and nightcap. "Sir," I began, addressing James Carthew with much affability, "it is through our common friend, Mr. Addison, that I venture to commend myself to you and to your good lady."
"And who may you be?" Mrs. James demanded, with sufficient bluntness.
"You may put me down as Captain Richard Steele, madam, of the Spectator, not the Tatler; and I have sent for you in a hurry, for which I must apologise, because our friend, Mr. Addison, has ridden from Tregarrick to-night on urgent private business, and I am here to carry out certain intentions of his with regard to a bundle of notes which he left in my keeping."
"I don't know you, sir; and I don't know your game," struck in James Carthew roughly; "but if the notes are mine, as I suspect, I beg to state that I never intended——"
"Quite so," I took him up amiably. "You do good by stealth and blush to find it known. But, in view of the sad event upstairs, there can be no harm in my stating before so discreet a lawyer as Mr. Retallack what I had from Mr. Addison's own lips—that these notes were intended by you for the deposit-money on the purchase of Welland."
"Addison had no right——"
"Of course, if I misread his directions, you can refer to him to correct me—when he returns. As it is, I heard it from him most plainly that—thanks to you—Welland was to be rescued and preserved for Mr. Harry Carthew's child. Mr. Retallack tells me that thirty-four thousand pounds is the sum needed, and that, of this, ten per cent., or three thousand four hundred, will be accepted as deposit money. It happens that I have but a short time to spend in Tregarrick, and therefore I have ventured to summon you and madam to bear witness that I hand this sum over to the person competent to receive it." And with this I took the notes from my breast-pocket and began to count them out carefully upon the table.