A smile which she did not quite like lingered on Beverley’s rather slack mouth. Mentally, he was reviewing Sir Richard’s family, but he said with great affability: “Oh, indeed? Ch-charmed to make your acquaintance, Mr-er-er?”
“Brown,” supplied Pen, regretting that she had not thought to provide herself with a more unusual surname.
“Brown,” bowed Beverley, his smile widening. “It is a great p-pleasure to me to m-meet any connection of W-Wyndham’s. In such a remote spot, too! Now d-do tell me! What b-brings you here?”
“Family affairs,” answered Pen promptly. “Uncle Richard—Cousin Richard, I mean, only I have always been in the way of calling him uncle, you understand—very kindly undertook to come with me.”
“So it was on y-your account that he came to Queen Ch-Charlton!” said Beverley. “That is most interesting!” His eyes ran over her in a way that made her feel profoundly ill-at-ease. “M-most interesting!” he repeated. “P-pray present my c-compliments to Wyndham, and tell him that I perfectly understand his reasons for choosing such a secluded locality!”
He bowed himself out with a flourish, leaving Pen in a state of considerable trepidation. In the tap room, he called for paper, ink, a pen, and some brandy, and sat down at a table in one corner to write a careful letter to Sir Richard. It took time, for he was not apt with a pen, and much brandy, but it was finished at last to his satisfaction. He looked round rather owlishly for wafers, but the tapster had brought him none, so he folded the note into a screw, wrote Sir Richard’s name on it in a flourishing scrawl, and told the tapster to give it to Sir Richard upon his return to the inn. After that he went away, not quite steadily, but full of chuckling glee at his own ingenuity.
The tapster, who was busy serving drinks, left the twisted note on the bar while he hurried to the other end of the room with beer for a clamorous party of country-men. It was here that Captain Trimble, coming into the taproom from the stableyard, found it.
Captain Trimble, who had spent a fruitless day in attempting to discover some trace of Jimmy Yarde in Bristol, was hot, and tired, and in no very good temper. He sat down on a high stool at the bar, and began to wipe his face with a large handkerchief. It was as he was restoring the handkerchief to his pocket that the note, and its superscription, caught his eye. He was well-acquainted with Mr Brandon’s handwriting, and he recognized it at once. It did not at first surprise him that Mr Brandon should have written to Sir Richard Wyndham; he supposed them to be of the same fashionable set. But as he looked idly down at the screw of paper thoughts of the wild-goose chase upon which Sir Richard had sent him took strong possession of his mind, and he wondered, not for the first time during that exasperating day, whether Sir Richard could have had a motive in dispatching him to Bristol. The note began to assume a sinister aspect; suspicion darkened the already warm colour in the Captain’s cheeks; and after staring at the note for a minute, he cast a quick look round, saw that no one was watching him, and deftly palmed it.
The tapster came back to the bar, but by the time he had recollected the note, Captain Trimble had retired to a high-backed settle by the empty fireplace, and was calling for a can of ale. At a convenient moment, he unscrewed the twist of paper, and read its contents.
“My very dear Richard,” had written Mr Brandon, I am desolated to find that you have gone out. I should like to continue our conversation. When I tell you that I have been privileged to meet your nephew, my dear Richard, I feel that you will appreciate the wisdom of meeting me again. You would not wish me to talk, but a paltry twelve thousand is not enough to close my mouth, which, however, I am willing to do, tho’ not for a less sum than I have it in my power to obtain by Other Means, Should you wish to discuss this delicate matter, I shall be in the spinney at ten o’clock this evening. If you do not come there, I shall understand that you have Withdrawn your Objection to my disposing of Certain Property as I choose, and I fancy that it would be Unwise of you to mention our dealings in this matter to anyone, either now or later.”