The ruse upon which he finally decided was an inspiration. He laughed to himself as the absurd simplicity of it all came home to him.
He retraced his steps to the village, this time choosing the Red Lion, and engaged a fly to carry him down into Watford, where he entered the same hotel that he had patronized in the morning. He made straight for the writing-room where he remembered having seen some headed note-paper. Then he wrote himself a letter, signing himself Henry Birkett, Public Analyst for the County of Herts. In the letter he said that the sample of water submitted to him from Adderbury Cottage was of a very dangerous description. He said that any one living in the afore-mentioned Adderbury Cottage was running a grave risk. The place, he added, must be in a deplorable sanitary condition, and that steps must be taken at once to overhaul the drainage.
With this missive in his pocket, Edward Povey reached Adderbury Cottage about eight o'clock.
The party were just sitting down to dinner, and were, with the exception of Charlotte, in a genial mood. Mrs. Povey, poor woman, showed plainly the anxiety and strain of the time she had been through, but Uncle Jasper was in fine form. He had already started operations on the garden, and was full of projects for the morrow. Edward smiled grimly as he listened to his talk of roses and cucumbers.
When dinner was over, the two men sat smoking and talking of various things, still mostly gardens. Aunt Eliza had gone to her re-arranged bedroom, whilst Charlotte could be heard in the kitchen, to which place the poor woman had flown many times in the course of the day as to a harbour of refuge.
Purposely allowing his pipe to go out, Edward took from his pocket the letter he had written to himself, and tearing off the blank sheet made a spool with which he relit his pipe. Then leaving the rest of the letter on the table, he made some excuse and went from the room. He left the door ajar, and watched the reflection of his uncle in the mirror of the sideboard. In less than three minutes he found that his faith in the inquisitiveness of his uncle had not been misplaced.
Edward Povey tiptoed to the kitchen, and, hastily warning his wife, awaited developments. They were not long in coming.
A chair was thrust hastily back and agitated steps left the dining-room and creaked upstairs. Voices in discussion were heard above. Then Uncle Jasper came down. He was boiling over with wrath as he entered the kitchen, and to Edward, who knew the circumstances, the old man's efforts to disguise his feelings were not without their humour. The old man felt at that moment that he would have given half his fortune to tell the pair before him what he thought of them. But for once in his life Jasper Jarman had met his match. To admit that he had read another man's letter was not to be thought of. Equally impossible was it for his wife and himself to remain another night in the pestilential atmosphere of Adderbury Cottage. He made a gurgling noise in his throat, then:
"I'm sorry, Edward, but I had forgotten this is the 3rd. I have to be in Kidderminster by twelve o'clock to-morrow—I—I—it means thousands to me."
He glared at them in impotent rage for a moment, then went on.