Mr. Witt's Widow Part 21

"Dare!" said Mrs. Bort; and George knew she was standing with her arms akimbo. "Dare!" she repeated _crescendo_; and apparently her aspect was threatening, for Neaera cried,

"Oh, I didn't mean that. Do let me go."

"Tell the truth, if your tongue'll do it. The truth, will ye?"

"The deuce!" said George; for, following on this last speech, he heard a sob.

"No, I haven't. I--oh, do have mercy on me!"

"Mercy! It's not mercy, it's a stick you want. But I'll tell him."

"Ah, stop, for Heaven's sake!"

There was a little scuffle; then the door flew open, and Mrs. Bort appeared, with Neaera clinging helplessly about her knees.

George rose and bowed politely. "I'm afraid I intrude," said he.

"That's easy mended," said Mrs. Bort, with significance.

Neaera had leapt up on seeing him, and leant breathless against the door, looking like some helpless creature at bay.

"Who let you in?" demanded the lady of the house.

"Your servant."

"I'll let _her_ in," said Mrs. Bort, darkly. "Who are ye?"

George looked at Neaera. "My name is Neston," he said blandly.

"Neston?"

"Certainly."

"Then you're in nice time; I wanted you, young man. D'ye see that woman?"

"Certainly; I see Mrs. Witt."

"D'ye know what she is? Time you did, if you're a-going to take her to church."

Neaera started.

"I hope to do so," said George, smiling; "and I think I know all about her."

"Do ye, now? Happen ever to have heard of Peckton?"

Neaera buried her face in her hands, and cried.

"Ah, pity you haven't something to cry for! Thought I'd see a sin done for ten pound a month, did ye?"

George interposed; he began to enjoy himself. "Peckton? Oh yes. The shoes, you mean?"

Mrs. Bort gasped.

"A trifle," said George, waving the shoes into limbo.

"Gracious! You ain't in the same line, are you?"

George shook his head.

"Anything else?" he asked, still smiling sweetly.

"Only a trifle of forging," said Mrs. Bort. "But p'raps she got her deserts from me over that."

"Forging?" said George. "Oh ah, yes. You mean about----"

"Her place at Bournemouth? Ah, Nery, don't you ache yet?"

Apparently Neaera did. She s.h.i.+vered and moaned.

"But I've got it," continued Nemesis; and, she bounded across the room to a cupboard. "There, read that."

George took it calmly, but read it with secret eagerness. It was the original character, and stated that Miss Gale began her service in May, not March, 1883.

"I caught her a-copying it, and altering dates. My, how I did----"

"Dear, dear!" interrupted George. "I was afraid it was something new.

Anything else, Mrs. Bort?"

Mrs. Bort was beaten.

"Go along," she said. "If you likes it, it's nothing to me. But lock up your money-box."

"Let me congratulate you, Mrs. Bort, on having done your duty."

"I'm an honest woman," said Mrs. Bort.

"Yes," answered George, "by the powers you are!" Then, turning to Mrs.

Witt, he added, "Shall we go--Neaera dear?"

"You'll both of you die on the gallows," said Mrs. Bort.

"Come, Neaera," said George.

She took his arm and they went out, George giving the little servant a handsome tip to recompense her for the prospect of being "let in" by her mistress.

George's cab was at the door. He handed Neaera in. She was still half-crying and said nothing, except to tell him the name of her hotel.

Then he raised his hat, and watched her driven away, wiping his brow with his handkerchief.