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Page 112
Ashe regarded the intruder with a malevolent eye. Never fond of
Mr. Judson, he looked on him now with positive loathing. It had
not been easy for him to work himself up to the point where he
could discuss with Joan the mysterious ways of Providence, for
there was that about her which made it hard to achieve sentiment.
That indefinable something in Joan Valentine which made for
nocturnal raids on other people's museums also rendered her a
somewhat difficult person to talk to about twin souls and
destiny. The qualities that Ashe loved in her--her strength, her
capability, her valiant self-sufficingness--were the very
qualities which seemed to check him when he tried to tell her
that he loved them.
Mr. Judson was still babbling.
"It's true. There ain't a doubt of it now. It's been and happened
just as I said that night."
"What did you say? Which night?" inquired Ashe.
"That night at dinner--the first night you two came here. Don't
you remember me talking about Freddie and the girl he used to
write letters to in London--the girl I said was so like you, Miss
Simpson? What was her name again? Joan Valentine. That was it.
The girl at the theater that Freddie used to send me with letters
to pretty nearly every evening. Well, she's been and done it,
same as I told you all that night she was jolly likely to go and
do. She's sticking young Freddie up for his letters, just as he
ought to have known she would do if he hadn't been a young
fathead. They're all alike, these girls--every one of them."
Mr. Judson paused, subjected the surrounding scenery to a
cautious scrutiny and resumed.
"I took a suit of Freddie's clothes away to brush just now; and
happening"--Mr. Judson paused and gave a little cough--"happening
to glance at the contents of his pockets I come across a letter.
I took a sort of look at it before setting it aside, and it was
from a fellow named Jones; and it said that this girl, Valentine,
was sticking onto young Freddie's letters what he'd written her,
and would see him blowed if she parted with them under another
thousand. And, as I made it out, Freddie had already given her
five hundred.
"Where he got it is more than I can understand; but that's what
the letter said. This fellow Jones said he had passed it to her
with his own hands; but she wasn't satisfied, and if she didn't
get the other thousand she was going to bring an action for
breach. And now Freddie has given me a note to take to this
Jones, who is stopping in Market Blandings."
Joan had listened to this remarkable speech with a stunned
amazement. At this point she made her first comment:
"But that can't be true."
"Saw the letter with my own eyes, Miss Simpson."
"But----"
She looked at Ashe helplessly. Their eyes met--hers wide with
perplexity, his bright with the light of comprehension.
"It shows," said Ashe slowly, "that he was in immediate and
urgent need of money."
"You bet it does," said Mr. Judson with relish. "It looks to me
as though young Freddie had about reached the end of his tether
this time. My word! There won't half be a kick-up if she does sue
him for breach! I'm off to tell Mr. Beach and the rest. They'll
jump out of their skins." His face fell. "Oh, Lord, I was
forgetting this note. He told me to take it at once."
"I'll take it for you," said Ashe. "I'm not doing anything."
Mr. Judson's gratitude was effusive.
"You're a good fellow, Marson," he said. "I'll do as much for you
another time. I couldn't hardly bear not to tell a bit of news
like this right away. I should burst or something."
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