“Why have you come so soon? I only received Wise’s letter this morning.”
“It was sent the day before yesterday.”
The rector picked up the letter, and found that it was dated two days ago.
“There was evidently a delay in transmission. What are we to do?” asked the clergyman, turning to his wife despairingly.
She stood white and irresolute. It was a most humiliating moment. She longed to call her manservant to turn the fellow out of doors, but she dared not.
“My instructions were to give reasonable time, 64 and not to proceed with the arrest if there was any possibility of the money being forthcoming, or a part of it, not less than two hundred and fifty—cash.”
“Can you wait till this evening?” pleaded the rector, hopelessly, “while I see what can be done. You’ve taken me at a disadvantage. My son is not here now. He won’t be back till after midday.”
“If there is any likelihood of your being able to do anything by evening, of course—”
“He’ll wait. He must wait,” cried Mrs. Swinton, taking up her muff. “I’ll have to see father about it.”
“You must wait till this evening, my man.”