"I beg your pardon," said I. "I have no right, I know, to come as a stranger to your house and tell you what perhaps you already know about your nephew. I'm sorry."
But she took no notice. She stood there at the door, waiting for the arrival of Fred, who was no other than Mr. Farringdon himself. To him she hurriedly explained everything. He was a meek little man, and he listened to it all with a wary eye upon me.
"What's this mean, sir?" said he, and his voice was brave and his attitude was great.
"I have already explained," said I. "Moreover I have apologized, too. I understand that your nephew has not married Miss Fawdry."
"Yes—yes—that is so," he replied.
"Now can you tell me where he lives?"
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't. He lets me know nothing about his movements except when he is in need of money. As that apparently has not been the case for some time, we have not heard of him for the past six months. I'm sorry I can't tell you where he lives."
"But, my dear, he says he'd horsewhip him if he knew," said Mrs. Farringdon, in consternation.
"That's why I'm sorry," said the little man.
With a sudden instinct I held out my hand. He shook it warmly, and there I left him to such mercy as his wife should feel inclined to offer him. From the glance in her eyes I doubt if there were a great deal of it.