“To Mrs. Bird, 8 Kent Street, London, W.
“Your letter to Mrs. Gillingwater received. Spare no expense. Am writing by to-day’s post.
“James Levinger, Monk’s Lodge, Bradmouth.”
“Would you mind ringing the bell, Mrs. Gillingwater?” said Mr. Levinger, as he re-read the telegram and, placing it in an envelope, directed it to the postmaster at Bradmouth. “No, stay: I will see to the matter myself.” And he left the room.
Presently he returned. “I do not know that I need keep you, Mrs. Gillingwater,” he said, “or that I have anything more to say. I shall do my best to look after your niece, and I will let you know how she goes on.”
“Thank you, sir; and about the rent and the notice?”
“At present, Mrs. Gillingwater, I shall dispense with both of them. I do not wish to deal hardly with you unless you force me to it. I suppose that you are in a bad way, as usual?”
“Well, yes, sir, I am. In fact, I don’t quite know what I can do unless I get a little help.”
“Ten pounds?” suggested Mr. Levinger.
“That will tide me over for a bit, sir.”