Meanwhile the people stay at their own
peril. There you have the whole thing."
"I hear the children are dying like flies."
"I can do nothing," said Faversham.
Again a shock of antagonism passed through the two men. "Yes, you can!"
thought Tatham; "you can resign your fat post, and your expectations, and
put the screw on the old man, that's what you could do." Aloud he said:
"A couple of thousand pounds, according to Undershaw, would do the job.
If you succeed in forcing them out, where are they to go?"
"That's not our affair."
Tatham caught up his hat and stick, and abruptly departed; reflecting
indeed when he reached the street, that he had not been the most
diplomatic of ambassadors on Mrs. Melrose's behalf.
Faversham, after some ten minutes of motionless reflection, heavily
returned to his papers, ordering his horse to be ready in half an hour.
He forced himself to write some ordinary business letters, and to eat
some lunch, and immediately after he started on horseback to find his way
through the October lanes to the village of Mainstairs.
A man more harassed, and yet more resolved, it would have been difficult
to find. For six weeks now he had been wading deeper and deeper into a
moral quagmire from which he saw no issue at all--except indeed by the
death of Edmund Melrose! That event would solve all difficulties.
For some time now he had been convinced, not only that the mother and
daughter were living, but that there had been some recent communication
between them and Melrose.
Pages:
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315