“Thank you, sir,” answered the man as quietly as ever. “If I hadn’t been a bit of a rogue myself,” he went on thoughtfully, “perhaps, sir, I shouldn’t have been so successful in bringing another rogue to book.”
For one moment Mr. Bradfield seemed disposed to kick him, but he refrained, and laughed instead, with some constraint, however. The remark had to be treated as a joke, though it could not be made to pass for a palatable one.
“Now, why,” pursued he, with an appearance of sincere regret, “did you not either let me know that you believed Mr. Richard to be recovering, or else let him escape much sooner than you did?”
“Well, sir,” he answered, not thinking it necessary to notice the first question, and proceeding straight to the consideration of the second, “when I first had my suspicions, the poor young gentleman had grown into such a savage that, if I had let him out, people would have believed that he was insane. I had to do my best to fit him for the world before I let him out into it. And I shouldn’t have succeeded so well as I did but for Miss Abercarne’s coming. That gave him just the stimulus he wanted, and after that it was easy to do what I liked with him. Why, sir, he’d forgotten how to speak when I first took him in hand, and I had to teach him as well as I could by the movement of the lips first, until bit by bit it came back to him.”
John Bradfield whistled softly.
“Then I d——d well wish you’d left it alone!” he murmured softly, as he walked away.
There was consternation among the Graham-Shutes when the evil rumour reached their ears that “dear cousin John” had got into trouble of some sort which involved heavy pecuniary loss, and the breaking up the establishment at Wyngham House. It came at such an awkward moment, too, just when Mrs. Graham-Shute had contemplated borrowing the use of the grounds for a garden-party which was to break the record of all her previous entertainments.
So, in despair, she had to borrow the common garden in one of the little squares in the town to give an open-air reception, which, at least, had the merit of attracting a great deal of attention. It was, indeed, the “sensation of the season” among the little boys and girls and the fisher-lads and hawkers of the population, who assembled in crowds, climbing up the railings from the outside, and occasionally shying well-directed pebbles right into the strawberries and cream which the guests were enjoying as well as they could in the circumstances. So that Mrs. Graham-Shute’s usual neglect to provide sufficient amusement for her guests was amply compensated for by the necessity of perpetual rushes on the part of the gentlemen of the party to the railings, to disperse the jibing hordes from the courts and alleys of the town.
One other incident gave an unusual zest to the proceedings; this was the appearance of Chris Abercarne, no longer in the character of the “housekeeper’s little girl,” but as the fiancée of a gentleman of property who now made his first appearance in Wyngham society as “Mr. Bradfield’s ward.”