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Page 11
He felt rather ashamed of himself; it was he who ought to have
answered the door and done all that parleying of which he had heard
murmurs.
And then in a moment his wife's hand shot out, and the ten sovereigns
fell in a little clinking heap on the table.
"Look there!" she whispered, with an excited, tearful quiver in her
voice. "Look there, Bunting!"
And Bunting did look there, but with a troubled, frowning gaze.
He was not quick-witted, but at once he jumped to the conclusion
that his wife had just had in a furniture dealer, and that this
ten pounds represented all their nice furniture upstairs. If that
were so, then it was the beginning of the end. That furniture in
the first-floor front had cost--Ellen had reminded him of the fact
bitterly only yesterday--seventeen pounds nine shillings, and
every single item had been a bargain. It was too bad that she had
only got ten pounds for it.
Yet he hadn't the heart to reproach her.
He did not speak as he looked across at her, and meeting that
troubled, rebuking glance, she guessed what it was that he thought
had happened.
"We've a new lodger!" she cried. "And--and, Bunting? He's quite
the gentleman! He actually offered to pay four weeks in advance, at
two guineas a week."
"No, never!"
Bunting moved quickly round the table, and together they stood there,
fascinated by the little heap of gold. "But there's ten sovereigns
here," he said suddenly.
"Yes, the gentleman said I'd have to buy some things for him
to-morrow. And, oh, Bunting, he's so well spoken, I really felt
that--I really felt that--" and then Mrs. Bunting, taking a step
or two sideways, sat down, and throwing her little black apron over
her face burst into gasping sobs.
Bunting patted her back timidly. "Ellen?" he said, much moved by her
agitation, "Ellen? Don't take on so, my dear--"
"I won't," she sobbed, "I--I won't! I'm a fool--I know I am!
But, oh, I didn't think we was ever going to have any luck again!"
And then she told him--or rather tried to tell him--what the
lodger was like. Mrs. Bunting was no hand at talking, but one thing
she did impress on her husband's mind, namely, that Mr. Sleuth was
eccentric, as so many clever people are eccentric--that is, in a
harmless way--and that he must be humoured.
"He says he doesn't want to be waited on much," she said at last
wiping her eyes, "but I can see he will want a good bit of looking
after, all the same, poor gentleman."
And just as the words left her mouth there came the unfamiliar sound
of a loud ring. It was that of the drawing-room bell being pulled
again and again.
Bunting looked at his wife eagerly. "I think I'd better go up, eh,
Ellen?" he said. He felt quite anxious to see their new lodger.
For the matter of that, it would be a relief to be doing something
again.
"Yes," she answered, "you go up! Don't keep him waiting! I wonder
what it is he wants? I said I'd let him know when his supper was
ready."
A moment later Bunting came down again. There was an odd smile on
his face. "Whatever d'you think he wanted?" he whispered
mysteriously. And as she said nothing, he went on, "He's asked me
for the loan of a Bible!"
"Well, I don't see anything so out of the way in that," she said
hastily, "'specially if he don't feel well. I'll take it up to him."
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