Great Porter Square: A Mystery. v. 3Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
General
Great Porter Square: A Mystery. v. 3
Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction
The Will is before me now, and I have read it carefully over. Everything
appears to be stated in proper legal form, and I have no doubt that it
sets my last Will completely aside. What I have done myself without the
aid of lawyers has been simply a measure of precaution for the next few
days. Wednesday, I hope, will be the last day of my enforced retirement.
* * * * *
_Wednesday, 8th July._--It is now four o'clock. My wife entered my room
at one o'clock, an hour before that appointed for our meeting. I did
not hear her step on the stairs or in the passage, and not expecting her
I was looking over the Will I made yesterday and the pages of the diary
I have kept since I became a lodger in this house. As she entered,
suddenly and unexpectedly, I threw a newspaper over my writing, not
wishing to excite her suspicions or to arouse her curiosity; but, as I
soon discovered, I was not successful. She was in her usual gay mood,
and came in with smiles and bright looks.
"Well, my dear," she said, "here I am, punctual to the minute."
"You are an hour too early," I replied, "our appointment was for two
o'clock."
"One o'clock, my dear," she said, correcting me.
"It is immaterial," I said, "and if it bring our business to a speedier
conclusion, the mistake of an hour will be agreeable to me."
She nodded pleasantly, and, as in our previous interviews, took off her
hat and mantle, and placed them aside.
"You have been busy," she said, pointing to the newspaper which covered
my papers. "Are you writing a book?" I did not answer her, and she
continued, still preserving her light tone. "Make me your heroine, my
love, but do not be too hard to me. Say something good of me if you can.
You may say that, after all, I showed my good sense, and agreed to your
proposals."
"Am I to accept this as an acquiescence in the arrangement I have
proposed?"
"Yes, my dear; I have grown sensible. I give in to all your terms. I
will go away from England, and will never, never return. I will give up
the name of Holdfast; I will even forget the name of Lydia, and will go
out into the world a new woman. A better one, I hope. There is but one
thing I insist upon. Now that I have made up my mind, and that nothing
can alter it--nothing, my dear; I would not live with you again if you
were to entreat me on your knees--I want this business matter settled at
once, this very day."
"How can that be done?" I asked.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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