'It will be quite unnecessary.'
'You must excuse my remarking that I rather fancy you'll find you're wrong. I don't want to be accused of saying anything monstrous; but the more I think things over, the more I become convinced that there's something in this business which will--well, we'll say, create astonishment. Anyhow, this lady is entitled to be made acquainted with all the details of her husband's unexpected and mysterious death; and also to see, and talk to, the medical gentleman who attended him in his last hours.'
'If that is the way in which you put it, it will be easy to call at Sir Gregory Hancock's as we go, and to request him to favour us with his presence at Twickenham House. He will soon satisfy any doubts which this lady may entertain.'
In this way it was arranged, though not altogether to my liking. The children and I went with the young gentleman in a four wheeler, though it was with a heavy heart I shut the door of No. 32 behind me. He wouldn't let me take hardly any clothing, except a few things I put together in a bag. He wouldn't even let me put the children into their best things; I had to take them just as they were. He said we should get everything we wanted at Twickenham House. Just as though I wanted other people's things when I'd got everything as nice as possible of my own!
As we rattled through the streets--and the cab did rattle!--my head was all in a whirl. What I had gone through during the last few hours was almost more than I could bear. I had got used to watching and waiting, day after day and week after week, for what seemed as if it would never come, but this was beyond that altogether. It doesn't take much to muddle me, and amidst it all the only thing I could take right hold of was that they said that my James was dead. I sat with my heart as cold as ice, and my eyes burning, as if something had stung them. If I could have cried, it would have been something; but I couldn't. Whether I was doing a wise thing in leaving my own house, and coming to this strange place, I couldn't think.
We stopped at a house which I understood was Sir Gregory Somebody's, the great doctor. It seemed, from what passed, that he was to come on after us. It wasn't long before we stopped again; this time at a great house in a great square. The young gentleman got out, and he had hardly touched the bell before the door was open, and he was leading the children and me into the house. I never saw the likes of it. There were footmen in white stockings and powdered hair, and a hall which was bigger than any room I ever came across. It seemed against nature that I should go into such a place as if I owned it. No wonder that I pressed the children's hands, so that they clung tighter to me. I felt that the mites were trembling; I don't doubt I trembled too.
He took me into a room in which were the two ladies who had been the day before at Mr. Howarth's--Miss Desmond and the young one. Miss Desmond came hurrying towards us.
'So you've brought them, have you? You clever man!' She put her hands upon my shoulder, and kissed me--before I could stop her. 'My dear Mary, welcome home.'
'Begging your pardon, miss, but this isn't my home, or ever will be.'
Somehow the very thought of such a thing made me shiver again. She laughed.