'Nor could Mr. Claxton, so far as I have seen of him at least,' said Mr. Broadbent; 'a thoroughly steady-going man of business, I should say.'
'Ah!' said Doctor Haughton. And then there was a pause, broken by the doctor's saying, as he looked straight out of the window before him, 'No need of asking what made the man adopt this mystery and this alias, eh? A woman, of course?'
'Well, there certainly is a Mrs. Claxton,' said Mr. Broadbent, 'and a very pretty woman too.'
'Poor creature, poor creature!' said Doctor Haughton; 'such things as these always fall hardest upon them.'
'Yes, it's a bad thing for her losing her husband,' said Mr. Broadbent.
'Her husband!' echoed Doctor Haughton. 'I--I--I suppose every one at Hendon thought she was Calverley's wife?'
'Thought she was!' cried Mr. Broadbent; 'do you mean to say she wasn't?'
'Why, my good friend,' said Doctor Haughton, pushing his hat on the back of his head and staring at his companion, 'there's a Mrs. Calverley at home in Great Walpole-street, whither we are now going, to whom Calverley has been married for the last ten or fifteen years.'
'Good Heaven!' cried Mr. Broadbent; 'then that poor girl at Rose Cottage is--ah, poor child, poor child!' And he sighed and shook his head very sorrowfully. He knew at that moment that so soon as the story got wind he would have to brave his wife's anger, and the virtuous indignation of all his neighbours, who would be furious at having him in their spotless domiciles after his attendance on such a 'creature;' but his first emotions were pity for the girl, however erring she might be.
'Very distressing indeed,' said Doctor Haughton, blowing his nose loudly. 'It is a most extraordinary thing that men who are liable to a cardiac affection are not more careful in such matters. And the girl is pretty too, you say?'