Jim turned to me pleadingly--we were all on our feet. “Loudon,” he said,
“you see Mamie has some fancy; and I must say there's just a sort of a
shadow of an excuse; for it IS bewildering--even to me, Loudon, with my
trained business intelligence. For God's sake, clear it up.”
“This serves me right,” said I. “I should not have tried to keep you in
the dark; I should have told you at first that I was pledged to secrecy;
I should have asked you to trust me in the beginning. It is all I can
do now. There is more of the story, but it concerns none of us, and my
tongue is tied. I have given my word of honour. You must trust me and
try to forgive me.”
“I daresay I am very stupid, Mr. Dodd,” began Mamie, with an alarming
sweetness, “but I thought you went upon this trip as my husband's
representative and with my husband's money? You tell us now that you
are pledged, but I should have thought you were pledged first of all
to James. You say it does not concern us; we are poor people, and my
husband is sick, and it concerns us a great deal to understand how we
come to have lost our money, and why our representative comes back to
us with nothing. You ask that we should trust you; you do not seem to
understand; the question we are asking ourselves is whether we have not
trusted you too much.”
“I do not ask you to trust me,” I replied. “I ask Jim. He knows me.”
“You think you can do what you please with James; you trust to his
affection, do you not? And me, I suppose, you do not consider,” said
Mamie. “But it was perhaps an unfortunate day for you when we were
married, for I at least am not blind. The crew run away, the ship is
sold for a great deal of money, you know that man's address and you
conceal it, you do not find what you were sent to look for, and yet you
burn the ship; and now, when we ask explanations, you are pledged to
secrecy! But I am pledged to no such thing; I will not stand by in
silence and see my sick and ruined husband betrayed by his condescending
friend. I will give you the truth for once. Mr. Dodd, you have been
bought and sold.”
“Mamie,” cried Jim, “no more of this! It's me you're striking; it's only
me you hurt. You don't know, you cannot understand these things. Why,
to-day, if it hadn't been for Loudon, I couldn't have looked you in the
face. He saved my honesty.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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