“To whom do you refer?” inquired Kate, quietly, as soon as she could get in a word; for Mr. Crane, when excited, was as voluble as a washerwoman.
“To whom do I refer!” repeated her husband, in the highest note of his shrill falsetto; “why, madam, to whom should I refer, except to your precious friend and admirer, Horace D’Almayne?”
“Mr. D’Almayne!” exclaimed Kate, in surprise; for only two days before, Mr. Crane had detained her for a good half-hour to listen to the praises of his factotum’s zeal and fidelity. “Mr. D’Almayne! why I thought you were so much pleased with the tact and intelligence he had displayed in your service! surely, you told me he had actually received the money of which your foreign agent attempted to defraud you.”
“And if he has, how do I know that it’s any safer in his hands than it was before? it’s a large sum to trust a needy man with: how can I tell that he won’t bolt with it?”
“Surely, you do not suspect him of dishonesty?”
“I suspect him of everything that’s wicked, and deceitful, and dreadful,” returned Mr. Crane, in a tone of voice so dismal, that Kate could scarcely restrain a smile. “But of course you defend him—yes, Mrs. Crane, I say, of course you defend him! I am not surprised at that—in fact, I may add, I expected as much. I had reason, good reason, madam, to imagine such would be your line of conduct.”
Kate paused until her husband had talked himself into the state of mean and abject peevishness, which was the nearest approach he could ever make towards being in a rage with one who was not utterly weak and powerless, and, when he stopped from sheer want of breath, observed quietly—
“I really am at a loss to comprehend to what you allude, or what reason you can possibly have to connect me with this sudden change of opinion in regard to Mr. D’Almayne: would you oblige me by explaining?”
“I sha’n’t do anything of the kind, madam; I don’t see that I’m obliged to give you any reason; it ought to be enough for you to know that I disapprove of your conduct—conduct which could give rise to such representations, madam; and—and comments, Mrs. Crane, impertinent remarks, derogatory to my position—must be reprehensible.”
“I do not desire to annoy you, but I must again ask to what remarks and representations you refer?” was Kate’s reply. Mr. Crane fidgeted, looked perplexed, tried to get angry, and carry it through with a high hand, met Kate’s calm eye and could not, and at last with a very ill grace drew from his pocket a letter, which he unfolded and prepared to read, saying—