“Poor Mr. Simmonds will be relieved about this,” said Angela.
“By the way,” said the Bishop, “I hear that Mottram did leave some unsettled estate after all, and that, I suppose, will go to Simmonds. Not a great deal, but it’s enough for him to marry on.”
Angela swears that at this point she heard, on the other side of the door, a scuffle and the rustle of departing footsteps. She says you can’t cure maids of their bad habits, really.
“My own difficulty,” said the Bishop, “is about my moral claim to this money. For it was left to me, it seems, by a will which the testator did not mean to take effect.”
“On the other hand, you’ve earned it, My Lord,” suggested Bredon. “After all, poor Mottram was only waiting to find out whether you would prove to be an honest man or not. And I think you’ve come out of the test very well. Besides, you can’t refuse the legacy; it’s in trust for the diocese. I hope Pullford will see a lot of Catholic activity now.”
“The church collections will be beginning to fall off almost at once,” said Eames, with a melancholy face.
“I wish I had scrutinized those motor-cushions more closely,” said Mr. Pulteney. “It seems to me that I get nothing out of all this.”
“Which reminds me,” said Leyland, “I suppose the bet’s off.”
“And Mr. Bredon,” added the Bishop, “will get no thanks from his company. I’m afraid, Mr. Bredon, you will have carried nothing away with you from your visit to these parts.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Bredon.