Mr Doddard read as follows:
On board S.S. Camel, off Plymouth, Tuesday.
My dear Gideon—Here I am almost at home again. I fancy that you didn’t expect to see me just at present; for I wasn’t able to write to you before we left Demerara; so, as we are now sending ashore here, I post you a few lines to prepare you for the surprise. It is, as you know, quite unusual for vessels of this line to call at Plymouth, and therefore I haven’t time to send you a long letter; though, if we also call at Southampton, I will write again from there. I have told Doddard to send some one to meet me at Gravesend; let him take down any letters that you may want me to see at once.—Yours affectionately,
Solomon.
‘Well, I never did!’ cried Mr Doddard. ‘Yet I could swear to Mr Pudster’s handwriting anywhere. It is a terrible thing for a man who ought to be lying quietly in his coffin to come back like this, and upset every one’s calculations.’
‘You are certain about the handwriting?’ asked Mr Maggleby anxiously.
‘Quite certain!’ replied Mr Doddard. ‘What a frightful thing for poor Mrs Pudster!’
‘Mrs Maggleby, you mean!’ said Mr Maggleby. ‘Yes. I don’t know how to break it to her. It’s a case of bigamy; isn’t it?’
‘Let us hope for the best, sir. Mr Pudster won’t prosecute, I fancy, considering the peculiar character of the circumstances. It’s his fault. That’s my opinion. I could swear, even now, that we buried him. He must have revived in his coffin, and been dug up again by the gravediggers; and must then have gone over to Demerara, in order to avoid shocking his poor wife.’
‘I wonder our Demerara agents didn’t say something about it when they wrote by the last mail,’ said Mr Maggleby.