“You said that last time and the time before that, and every time as far back as I can remember. D’you remember what I said?”
Before the anger in Barrington’s eyes Ocky began to crouch. “It won’t happen again. I swear it. I’ve learnt my lesson.”
Barrington knew his answers before they were uttered. “I’ve told you each time,” he said, “that, if you repeated your thefts, you’d have to take the consequences. Last time I meant it.”
Then would follow from Ocky a series of pleadings and arguments. That exposure would entail disgrace all round. That he would be arrested. That his family would be ruined. That the story would get into the papers and would reflect discreditably on Barrington. When these failed, Ocky would appeal to their friendship and the common memories they shared. The scene would usually close with a warning from Barrington that this was really the last time he would come to his rescue; then the debts would be added up and the check book would be brought out.
The threat of Ocky became a nightmare to Barrington and Nan—the children were not supposed to know about it. The finding of so much money was an intolerable burden, and they were never safe from its recurrence. On several occasions Barrington had to sell some of his pictures to meet these sudden demands for ready cash. To add to their anxiety was the fact that they had so far refrained from telling Jehane, out of fear that her resentment against her husband would make matters worse. So her letters still arrived punctually, singing his praises and saying how splendidly he was making progress.
But the day was fast approaching when the shoring up of Ocky Waffles had to end. It ended when Barrington discovered that his cousin was tapping other sources for his borrowing.
On a trip to Oxford with reference to a manuscript, he surprised Ocky leaving the Professor’s house. Nan, when calling on the Misses Jacobite, recognized an envelope addressed in Ocky’s hand.
The next time he made his visit to Topbury, Barrington kept his promise. Ocky was shown directly into the study without any preliminaries of family enquiries. He was not asked to sit down. Barrington faced him, standing with his back to the fire.
“I’ve been expecting you. My mind’s made up. I don’t want to hear what you’ve come for or any of your excuses. You’ve lied to me. I know all about the Professor and the Misses Jacobite. Doubtless there are others. You can go to jail this time, and I hope it’ll cure you. I’ve been a fool to try and save you. You’re rotten throughout.”
Since the accidental meeting at Oxford, Ocky had been prepared for some such explosion. He had fortified himself with drink for the encounter. But he was stunned by this unexpected air of judicial finality. He began to pour out feverish words. Barrington cut him short.