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Page 10
"Is it indeed, sir?" She hesitated a moment, then asked stiffly,
"And will you be requiring any beer, or wine, sir?"
A strange, wild look of lowering wrath suddenly filled Mr. Sleuth's
pale face.
"Certainly not. I thought I had made that quite clear, Mrs. Bunting.
I had hoped to hear that you were an abstainer--"
"So I am, sir, lifelong. And so's Bunting been since we married."
She might have said, had she been a woman given to make such
confidences, that she had made Bunting abstain very early in their
acquaintance. That he had given in about that had been the thing
that first made her believe, that he was sincere in all the nonsense
that he talked to her, in those far-away days of his courting. Glad
she was now that he had taken the pledge as a younger man; but for
that nothing would have kept him from the drink during the bad times
they had gone through.
And then, going downstairs, she showed Mr. Sleuth the nice bedroom
which opened out of the drawing-room. It was a replica of Mrs.
Bunting's own room just underneath, excepting that everything up
here had cost just a little more, and was therefore rather better
in quality.
The new lodger looked round him with such a strange expression of
content and peace stealing over his worn face. "A haven of rest,"
he muttered; and then, "'He bringeth them to their desired haven.'
Beautiful words, Mrs. Bunting."
"Yes, sir."
Mrs. Bunting felt a little startled. It was the first time anyone
had quoted the Bible to her for many a long day. But it seemed to
set the seal, as it were, on Mr. Sleuth's respectability.
What a comfort it was, too, that she had to deal with only one
lodger, and that a gentleman, instead of with a married couple!
Very peculiar married couples had drifted in and out of Mr. and
Mrs. Bunting's lodgings, not only here, in London, but at the
seaside.
How unlucky they had been, to be sure! Since they had come to
London not a single pair of lodgers had been even moderately
respectable and kindly. The last lot had belonged to that horrible
underworld of men and women who, having, as the phrase goes, seen
better days, now only keep their heads above water with the help of
petty fraud.
"I'll bring you up some hot water in a minute, sir, and some clean
towels," she said, going to the door.
And then Mr. Sleuth turned quickly round. "Mrs. Bunting"--and as
he spoke he stammered a little--"I--I don't want you to interpret
the word attendance too liberally. You need not run yourself off
your feet for me. I'm accustomed to look after myself."
And, queerly, uncomfortably, she felt herself dismissed--even a
little snubbed. "All right, sir," she said. "I'll only just let
you know when I've your supper ready."
CHAPTER III
But what was a little snub compared with the intense relief and joy
of going down and telling Bunting of the great piece of good fortune
which had fallen their way?
Staid Mrs. Bunting seemed to make but one leap down the steep stairs.
In the hall, however, she pulled herself together, and tried to still
her agitation. She had always disliked and despised any show of
emotion; she called such betrayal of feeling "making a fuss."
Opening the door of their sitting-room, she stood for a moment
looking at her husband's bent back, and she realised, with a pang
of pain, how the last few weeks had aged him.
Bunting suddenly looked round, and, seeing his wife, stood up. He
put the paper he had been holding down on to the table: "Well," he
said, "well, who was it, then?"
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