This occurred in the beginning of September, and about the middle of October, Travers suddenly informed me that he was to be married on the following Monday—this was Tuesday. The lease of a house at Hammersmith had, he said, been agreed for, the furniture ordered, and every thing was to be completed and paid for by the end of the present week. "And the money—the extra two hundred and odd pounds required—how has that been obtained?" "Of my uncle Woolridge, a marriage-gift, though he won't, I believe, be present at the wedding," returned the bridegroom-elect, with a joyous chuckle. I was quite sure from his manner, as well as from my knowledge of his uncle's penurious character, that this was a deception. Constance Hervey's scruples, I had always thought, now that it was certain his next quarter's salary would be one hundred and fifty pounds were somewhat over strained and unreasonable—still I was vexed that he had stooped to deceive her by such a subterfuge. It was, however, no especial affair of mine, and I reluctantly accepted his invitation to dine at the Herveys' with him on the last day of his bachelorhood, that is, on the following Sunday. Capel was invited, but he refused. I also, declined, and resolutely, to attend the wedding. That would, I felt, be un peu trop fort just then.
A very pleasant party assembled at Mr. Hervey's on the afternoon of that terrible Sunday, and we were cheerfully chatting over the dessert, when the servant-girl announced that four gentlemen were at the door who said they must see Mr. Travers instantly.
"Must see me!" exclaimed Travers. "Very peremptory, upon my word. With your leave, sir—and yours, Constance, I will see these very determined gentlemen here. Bid them walk in, Susan."
Before Susan could do so, the door opened, and in walked the strangers without invitation. One of them, a square, thick-set, bullet-headed man it instantly struck me I had been in company with before. Oh! to be sure! he was the officer who conducted the investigation in the matter of the stolen notes. What on earth could he want there—or with Travers?
"You paid, Mr. Travers," said he, bluntly, "something over four hundred pounds to these two gentlemen, yesterday."
"Yes, certainly I did; no doubt about it."
"Will you tell us, then, if you please, where you obtained the notes in which you made those payments?"
"Obtained them—where I obtained them?" said Travers, who did not, I think, immediately recognize the officer. "To be sure. Four of them—four fifties—I have had by me for some time; and—and—"
"The two one-hundred pound notes—how about them?" quietly suggested the man, seeing Travers hesitate.
Travers, more confused than alarmed, perhaps, but white as the paper on which I am writing, glanced hurriedly round—we had all impulsively risen to our feet—till his eye rested upon Constance Hervey's eagerly-attentive countenance. "I received them," he stammered, repeating, I was sure, a falsehood, "from my uncle, Mr. Woolridge, of Tottenham."