All But Lost: A Novel. Vol. 2 of 3

by G. A. Henty

Fred Bingham, too, grew nervously anxious as the time for Frank's return approached. He came back to town a few days before Frank was expected, but he only called once upon his uncle; he felt that it would look better if he were not to seem too anxious to step into the place of favourite, and had been very careful during that one visit to say nothing against Frank. He knew that his cousin had not yet received Captain Bradshaw's letter, for he had said on leaving that he should give no address upon the Continent, for that he did not know where he should go, and did not mean to be bothered with letter-writing while he was away. There was, therefore, no danger until Frank's return, and then Fred knew he would at once write to demand an explanation. He felt sure that his uncle's letter contained no direct allusion to the circumstances of which Frank was accused, and that therefore he could produce no proofs of his innocence, which, indeed, now that Stephen Walker had left New Street, was impossible. The great step then was to prevent Captain Bradshaw from receiving Frank's letter demanding an explanation. That once done Fred Bingham felt certain of his ground. He was playing a difficult game for high stakes, but he felt pretty confident in his own skill. His one fear was that Frank, in his indignation, might rush down to Lowndes Square and personally demand an explanation from his uncle; but the letter had been so extremely offensive, that Fred Bingham hoped and believed that Frank would write. On the day upon which he knew Frank was to return, Fred Bingham called in Lowndes Square, at a time when his uncle would be from home.

“Is Miss Heathcote in?” he asked.

“Yes, sir; she is up in her own room. Shall I tell her you are here?”

“No, James, it is hardly worth while. I could only stay a few minutes. By the way, just step in here, I want to speak to you.” He went into the dining-room and the servant followed and closed the door. “You must have had rather a hard time with your master lately, James.”

“Awful, sir; I can't stand it much longer. Flesh and blood can't put up beyond a certain point, you know, sir. Do what I will, nothing pleases him. He does swear sometimes really awful to hear; but there, sir, I need not tell you; you know what master is.”

“Well, James, he has been a good deal put out lately. There is a man who fancies he has some claim upon my uncle, and he writes to him and threatens to make public some old story which your master does not want talked about. Now, I am on this man's track, and I fancy I shall be able to find him in a day or two and put an end to all this. I expect he will be writing to-day or to-morrow to my uncle again, and I know it will make him so furious that he will be doing something rash. Now, I wish to prevent that letter reaching him until I have seen this man who is annoying him. I want you, therefore, to show me all the letters that come for the next day or two. I will come over twice a-day, so you will only have to keep them back one post. I only want to save him annoyance, and I can see he is quite wearing Miss Heathcote out. I will give you a five pound note if you will manage this, and you will be doing your master a real service. I know I can rely upon your holding your tongue. What do you say, James?”

“Lor' yes, sir, I would do anything to save master from annoyance. He is a real good master on the whole, though he is awful, sir. I can assure you he is downright awful when he is put out.”

“I am sure he must be very difficult to manage, James. The best way to arrange this will be for me to call each day at nine o'clock in the morning and at three in the afternoon. He never comes down to breakfast until ten, and Miss Heathcote does not come down till half-past nine, so there is no chance of his knowing that I have come; you can be looking out of the hall window and can open the door when you see me. I will call again at three, after he has gone out, and I will get you to put on your hat and run round to Hans Place of an evening with any letter which may come by a late post. You understand, James?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Bingham! I will see to it. It is only for two or three days you say.”

The next day there was no letter from Frank Maynard, nor was there on the following morning; but when Fred Bingham called at three o'clock there was a letter, the handwriting of which he at once recognised.