“Oh, Mr. Mules! will you give me some advice and assistance?”
“Advice, by all means,” said the rector. “I’ll turn and walk your way, the froth is blown into my face and stings it. My skin is sensitive, so are my eyes. Upon my word, when I get home my face will be as salt as if I had flooded it with tears—fancy me crying. What did you say you wanted—advice?”
“Advice and assistance.”
“Advice you shall have, it is my profession to give it. I mix it with pepper and salt and serve it out in soup plates every week—am ready with it every day, Mrs. Coppinger. I have buckets of it at your disposal, bring your tureen and I’ll tip in as much of the broth as you want, and may you like it. As to assistance, that is another matter. Pecuniary assistance I never give. I am unable to do so. My principles stand in the way. I have set up a high standard for myself and I stick to it. I never render pecuniary assistance to any one, as it demoralizes the receiver. I hope and trust it was not pecuniary assistance you wanted.”
“No, Mr. Mules—not that, only guidance.”
“Oh, guidance! I’m your sign-post, where do you want to go!”
“It is this, sir. I have given poison to Mr. Coppinger.”
“Mercy on me!” the rector jumped back and turned much the tinge of the foam plasters that were on his face.
“That is to say, I gave him arsenic mixed with his porridge the day before yesterday, and it made him very ill. Yesterday——”
“Hush, hush!” said Mr. Mules, “no more of this. This is ghastly. Let us say it is hallucination on your part. You are either not right in your head or are very wicked. If you please—don’t come nearer to me. I can hear you quite well, hear a great deal more than pleases me. You ask my advice, and I give it: Sign the register, that will set me square, and put me in an unassailable position with the public, and also, secondarily, it will be to your advantage. You are now a nondescript, and a nondescript is objectionable. If you please—you will excuse me—I should prefer not standing between you and the cliff. There is no knowing what a person who confesses to poisoning her husband might do. If it be a case of lunacy—well, more reason that I should use precautions. My life is valuable. Come, there is only one thing you can do to make me comfortable—sign the register.”