He looked at the envelope, and remarked with a little start of nervous excitement, “From Dr Congleton.”
“News of Mr Beveridge,” laughed Welsh.
The doctor read the first few lines, and then, as if he had got an electric shock, the letter fell from his hand, and an [pg 184] expression of the most utter and lively consternation came over his face.
“Heavens!” he ejaculated, “it’s all up.”
“What’s up?” cried Welsh, snatching at the letter.
“He’s run away!”
Welsh looked at him for a moment in some astonishment, and then burst out laughing.
“What a joke!” he cried; “I don’t see anything to make a fuss about. We’re jolly well rid of him.”
“The fee! I won’t get a penny till I bring him back. And the whole thing will be found out!”
As the full meaning of this predicament burst upon Welsh, his face underwent a change by no means pleasant to watch. For a full minute he swore, and then an ominous silence fell upon the room.