by W. W. Jacobs
of course. I was justgiving you the tip, but if you know better--why, there's nothing more tobe said. She'll be riding in her carriage and pair in six months,anyhow; the richest woman in Little Molton."
Mr. Clarkson stopped short and eyed him in perplexity.
"Digson got a bit sprung one night and told me," said Mr. Bignell. "Shedon't know it herself yet--uncle on her mother's side in America. Shemight know at any moment."
"But--but how did Digson know?" inquired the astonished Mr. Clarkson.
"He wouldn't tell me," was the reply. "But it's good enough for him.What do you think he's after? Her? And mind, don't let on to a soulthat I told you."
He walked on, leaving Mr. Clarkson standing in a dazed condition in thecentre of the foot-path. Recovering himself by an effort, he walkedslowly away, and, after prowling about for some time in an aimlessfashion, made his way back to Mrs. Phipps's house.
He emerged an hour later an engaged man, with the date of the weddingfixed. With jaunty steps he walked round and put up the banns, and then,with the air of a man who has completed a successful stroke of business,walked homewards.
Little Molton is a small town and news travels fast, but it did nottravel faster than Mr. Smithson as soon as he had heard it. He burstinto Mr. Clarkson's room like the proverbial hurricane, and, gasping forbreath, leaned against the table and pointed at him an incriminatingfinger.
"You you've been running," said Mr. Clarkson, uneasily.
"What--what--what do you--mean by it?" gasped Mr. Smithson. "After allmy trouble. After our--bargain."
"I altered my mind," said Mr. Clarkson, with dignity.
"Pah!" said the other.
"Just in time," said Mr. Clarkson, speaking rapidly. "Another day and Ibelieve I should ha' been too late. It took me pretty near an hour totalk her over. Said I'd been neglecting her, and all that sort of thing;said that she was beginning to think I didn't want her. As hard a job asever I had in my life."
"But you didn't want her," said the amazed Mr. Smithson. "You told meso."
"You misunderstood me," said Mr. Clarkson, coughing. "You jump atconclusions."
Mr. Smithson sat staring at him. "I heard," he said at last, with aneffort... "I heard that Digson was paying her attentions."
Mr. Clarkson spoke without thought. "Ha, he was only after her money,"he said, severely. "Good heavens! What's the matter?"
Mr. Smithson, who had sprung to his feet, made no reply, but stood forsome time incapable of speech.
"What--is--the--matter?" repeated Mr. Clarkson. "Ain't you well?"
Mr. Smithson swayed a little, and sank slowly back into his chair again.
"Room's too hot," said his astonished host.
Mr. Smithson, staring straight before him, nodded.
"As I was saying," resumed Mr. Clarkson, in the low tones of confidence,"Digson was after her money. Of course her money don't make anydifference to me, although, perhaps, I may be able to do something forfriends like you. It's from an uncle in America on her mother's--"
Mr. Smithson made a strange moaning noise, and, snatching his hat fromthe table, clapped it on his head and made for the door. Mr. Clarksonflung his arms around him and dragged him back by main force.
"What are you carrying on like that for?" he demanded. "What do you meanby it?"
"Fancy!" returned Mr. Smithson, with intense bitterness. "I thoughtDigson was the biggest fool in the place, and I find I've made amistake. So have you. Good-night."
He opened the door and dashed out. Mr. Clarkson, with a strange sinkingat his heart, watched him up the road.
