‘I suppose I know my own business,’ replied Joseph, wishing to convey the very impression which in fact he did—that he had the will in his pocket.
On reaching home he sat down at once and penned a letter to Messrs. Percival & Peel, formally apprising them of what had happened. Clem sat by and watched him. Having sealed the envelope, he remarked:
‘I’m going out for a couple of hours.’
‘Then I shall go with you.’
‘You’ll do nothing of the kind. Why, what do you mean, you great gaping fool?’ The agitation of his nerves made him break into unaccustomed violence. ‘Do you suppose you’re going to follow me everywhere for the next week? Are you afraid I shall run away? If I mean to do so, do you think you can stop me? You’ll just wait here till I come back, which will be before ten o’clock. Do you hear?’
She looked at him fiercely, but his energy was too much for her, and perforce she let him go. As soon as he had left the house, she too sat down and indited a letter. It ran thus:
‘DEAR MOTHER,—The old feller has gawn off, it apened at jest after six e’clock if you want to now I shall come and sea you at ten ‘clock to-morow moning, and I beleve hes got the will but hes a beest and theers a game up, you may take your hothe so I remain C. S.’
This document she took to the nearest pillar-post, then returned and sat brooding.
By the first hansom available Joseph was driven right across London to a certain dull street in Chelsea. Before dismissing the vehicle he knocked at the door of a lodging-house and made inquiry for Mr. Scawthorne. To his surprise and satisfaction, Mr. Scawthorne happened to be at home; so the cabman was paid, and Joseph went up to the second floor.
In his shabby little room Scawthorne sat smoking and reading. It was a season of impecuniosity with him, and his mood was anything but cheerful. He did not rise when his visitor entered.