What Will He Do with It? — Volume 03Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
What Will He Do with It? — Volume 03
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
"At your service, sir. Spring chickens?" Poor people, whatever their
grief, must sell their chickens, if they have any to sell.
"Thank you, ma'am; not at this moment. The fact is, that I call to make
some inquiries Have not you lodgers here?"
Lodgers! at that word the expanding soul of Mrs. Saunders reclosed
hermetically; the last warning of Waife revibrated in her ears this white
neckclothed gentleman, was he not a rat?
"No, sir, I ha'n't no lodgers."
"But you have had some lately, eh? a crippled elderly man and a little
girl."
"Don't know anything about them; leastways," said Mrs. Saunders, suddenly
remembering that she was told less to deny facts than to send inquirers
upon wrong directions," leastways, at this blessed time. Pray, sir, what
makes you ask?"
"Why, I was instructed to come down to ------, and find out where this
person, one William Waife, had gone. Arrived yesterday, ma'am. All I
could hear is, that a person answering to his description left the place
several days ago, and had been seen by a boy, who was tending sheep, to
come down the lane to your house, and you were supposed to have lodgers
(you take lodgers sometimes, I think, ma'am), because you had been buying
some trifling articles of food not in your usual way of custom.
Circumstantial evidence, ma'am: you can have no motive to conceal the
truth."
"I should think not indeed, sir," retorted Mrs. Saunders, whom the
ominous words "circumstantial evidence" set doubly on her guard. "I did
see a gentleman such as you mention, and a pretty young lady, about ten
days agone, or so, and they did lodge here a night or two, but they are
gone to--"
"Yes, ma'am,--gone where?"
"Lunnon."
"Really--very likely. By the train or on foot?"
"On foot, I s'pose."
"Thank you, ma'am. If you should see them again, or hear where they are,
oblige me by conveying this card to Mr. Waife. My employer, ma'am, Mr.
Gotobed, Craven Street, Strand,--eminent solicitor. He has something of
importance to communciate to Mr. Waife."
"Yes, sir,--a lawyer; I understand." And as of all ratlike animals in
the world Mrs. Saunders had the ignorance to deem a lawyer was the most
emphatically devouring, she congratulated herself with her whole heart on
the white lies she had told in favour of the intended victims.
The black-coated gentleman having thus obeyed his instructions and
attained his object, nodded, went his way, and regained the fly which he
had left at the turnstile. "Back to the inn," cried he, "quick: I must
be in time for the three o'clock train to London."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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