"Perhaps—" he paused, and pulled his cuffs down over his large, pale hands.
"Yes?"
"Perhaps I had better take him away for a little holiday."
She could have slapped him. But she only said eagerly:
"To England, you mean! Why not? There's a boat going the day after to-morrow take your passage on the Maréchal Bugeaud. Don't say a word to Claude. But and leave the rest to me. I know how to manage Claude. And if I get a little help from you!"
Old Jernington took his passage on the Maréchal Bugeaud and left the rest to Charmian, with this result. Late the next night, when they were all going to bed, she whispered to him, "I've put a note in your room. Don't say a word to him!" She touched her lips. Much intrigued by all this feminine diplomacy Jernington went to his room, and found the following note under a candlestick. (Charmian had a sense of the dramatic.)
"Dear Mr. Jernington,—Claude won't go. It's no use for me to say anything. He is in a highly nervous state brought on by this overwork. I see the only thing is to let him have his own way in everything. Don't even mention that we had thought of this holiday in England. The least thing excites him. And as he won't go, what is the use of speaking of it? If I can get him to join you later well and good. For the moment we can only give in and be discreet. You have been such a dear to us both. The house will seem quite different without you. Not a word to Claude. Burn this!
"C. H."
And old Jernington burnt it in the flame of the candle, and went away alone on the Maréchal Bugeaud the next morning, with apologies to Claude.