Two days after her departure, however, Mr.
Cobble called Quelch into his private office and told him that if
he liked he might for once take holiday from the Friday to the
Tuesday inclusive, and join his wife at the seaside.
Quelch accepted the boon with an honest intention of employing
it as suggested. Indeed, he had even begun a letter to his wife
announcing the pleasing intelligence, and had got as far as "My dear
Penelope," when a wild and wicked thought struck him: why should
he not spend his unexpected holiday in Paris?
Laying down his pen, he opened his desk: and counted his secret
hoard. It amounted to five pounds seventeen, twelve shillings more
than Flipp's outlay. There was no difficulty in that direction,
and nobody would be any the wiser. His wife would imagine that
he was in London, while his employers would believe him to be
at Lowestoft. There was a brief struggle in his mind, but the
tempter prevailed, and, with a courage worthy of a better cause,
he determined to risk it and--_go_.
And thus it came to pass that, on the evening of our story, Benjamin
Quelch, having completed his packing,--which merely comprised what
he was accustomed to call his "night things," neatly bestowed in
a small black hand-bag belonging to Mrs.
Pages:
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104