“Oh, Mr. Todhetley, I am so glad to see you!” she said. “It is a cruel turn that the Clement-Pells have served me, leaving me here without warning, to bear the brunt of all this! Have you come in the interests of the family?”
“I’ve come after my own interests, ma’am,” returned the Pater. “To find out, if I can, where Clement-Pell has gone to: and to see if I can get back any of the money I have been done out of.”
“Why, it seems every one must be a creditor!” she exclaimed in surprise, on hearing this.
“I know I am one,” was his answer.
“To serve me such a trick,—to behave to me with this duplicity: it is infamous,” went on Miss Phebus, after she had related to us the chief events of the Sunday, as connected with the story of the dying uncle and the telegram. “If I get the chance, I will have the law against them, Mr. Todhetley.”
“It is what a few more of us mean to do, ma’am,” he answered.
“They owe me forty pounds. Yes, Mr. Duffham, it is forty pounds: and I cannot afford to lose it. Mrs. Pell has put me off from time to time: and I supposed it to be all right; I suspected nothing. They have not treated me well lately, either. Leaving me here to take care of the house while they were enjoying themselves up in Kensington! I had a great mind to give warning then. The German governess got offended while they were in town, and left. Some friend of Fabian Pell’s was rude to her.”
A little man looked into the room just then; noting down the furniture with his eye. “None of these here articles must be moved, you understand, mum,” he said to Miss Phebus.
“Don’t talk to me,” she answered wrathfully. “I am going out of the house as soon as I can put my things together.” And the man went away.
“If I had only suspected!” she resumed to us, her angry tone full of pain; “and I think I might have done so, had I exercised my wits. My room is next to Mrs. Pell’s; but it’s not much larger than a closet, and has no fireplace in it: she only gave it me because it was not good enough for any one else. Saturday night was very hot—as you must remember—and I could not sleep. The window was open, but the room felt like an oven. After tossing about for I don’t know how long, I got up and opened the door, thinking it might admit a breath of air. At that moment I heard sounds below—the quiet shutting of a door, and advancing footsteps. Wondering who could be up so late, I peeped out and saw Mrs. Pell. She came up softly, a candle in her hand, and her face quite curious and altered—aged and pale and haggard. She must be afraid of the ghosts, I thought to myself, as she turned off into her chamber—for we had been telling ghost-stories that night up to bed-time. After that, I did not get to sleep; not, as it seemed, for hours; and all the time I heard drawers being opened and shut in her bed and dressing-room. She must even then have been preparing for flight.”