The next day was that of the Graham-Shutes’ departure. The fair Maude thought it only right to warn her dear cousin John, before she went, to be on his guard against the Abercarnes, as they were very designing people. Dear cousin John retorted with a bombshell:
“I hope, my dear Maude,” said he, coolly, “that one of them will no longer be an Abercarne by the time I see you again.”
Crestfallen, the poor lady pretended not to understand. So John remorselessly explained:
“Why, I hope to make Christina Mrs. John Bradfield before many weeks are over.”
Poor Mrs. Graham-Shute drew a long breath. At last she said:
“Whatever you do, of course, you have my best wishes for your happiness. But—lucky as you are, John,” she ended, with spiteful emphasis, “I wouldn’t tempt Providence too far, if I were you!”
To which dear John answered by a roar of derisive laughter, which made Maude say to her husband, as they drove away, that, under the influence of those two harpies, John’s manners were deteriorating greatly.
John Bradfield went back into the house quickly after seeing his cousin off; he ran upstairs, and was in time to catch sight of Stelfox hovering about the doorway of the injured Marrable. John’s expression grew threatening. There was danger, danger too great to be tolerated, in the meeting of these two men. Each of the two possessed the links which the other lacked in a chain of facts, which, if known, would be John Bradfield’s ruin. With a black frown on his face, the master of the house opened the door of the sick-room quietly, and walked to the bedside.
Poor Marrable had begged to get up that day, being, indeed, quite well enough to do so. But John had insisted on his remaining in bed, apparently out of solicitude for his friend, but really in order that he might the more easily keep him under his own eye. Alfred appeared to be asleep. John Bradfield glared at him ferociously. With this man was the key to John’s fate. The knowledge he held of the past life of his old chum was shared by nobody else on this side of the ocean. With these thoughts passing through his mind, John Bradfield almost involuntarily began to lift up, one by one, the various bottles, some containing medicines, and some lotions for outward application, which stood upon the table.