'What does this mean?' I mused. 'The supposition of an intrigue is preposterous. Probably Foster has merely deceived Evelyn as he did Sefton, in order to obtain her bounty. But why make her visits so secret? That is easily explained;—she does not wish to be connected publicly with any unhappy sequences of her former histrionic career. I will have an interview with Foster before proceeding further.'
I visited him that night, pushing into the house immediately after the black female servant who opened the door, lest I should be refused admittance. I found Foster in a half-intoxicated condition, seated comfortably at a table, with a pipe in his hand, and liquor before him.
'I am Mr. Bell,' said I, 'and had learned from my wife of your destitute condition, which I came to relieve. But you appear in excellent circumstances.'
Through his intoxication there was an evidence of confusion, as he stammered out,—
'Yes, sir; much obliged to you. Take a seat—a seat. Good spell now. Doctor prescribes a little comfort, you know, old boy!'
'A very kind doctor, I should judge, Mr. Foster, and I am glad to find you in such a good condition. Suppose I take a glass with you?'
'Certainly. Very happy—happy. Your health, sir.'
'I hope, sir,' I said, 'that you will soon recover, after the attentions of my wife and Mr. Sefton.'
'Sefton!' he exclaimed. 'Rascal! D—d rascal! sir.' He continued murmuring in his throat, 'Rascal! D—d rascal!'
'I'll take another glass,' said I. 'The liquor is very good—very good, sir. Who furnishes it?'