Part 39 (1/2)

”He mayn't be, but his caste is. Immensely popular with the county, which I suppose is all you care about. You must remember, Mrs. Levitt, that he's Mr. Waddington of Wyck; you're not fighting one Mr.

Waddington, but three hundred years of Waddingtons. You're up against all his ancestors.”

”I don't care _that_ for his ancestors,” said Mrs. Levitt with a gesture of the thumb.

”You may not. I certainly don't. But other people do. Major Markham, the Hawtreys, the Thurstons, even the Corbetts, do you suppose they're all going to turn against him because he lost his head for a minute on a Wednesday? Ten to one they'll all think, and _say_, you made him do it.”

”I made him? Preposterous!”

”Not so preposterous as you imagine. You must make allowances for people's prejudices. If you wanted to stand clear you shouldn't have taken all that money from him.”

”All that money indeed! A loan, a mere temporary loan, for an investment he recommended.”

”Not only that loan, but--” Barbara produced the cheque books with their d.a.m.ning counterfoils. ”Look here--twenty-five pounds on the thirty-first of January. And here--October last year, and July, and January before that--More than a hundred and fifty altogether. How are you going to account for that?

”And who's going to believe that Mr. Waddington paid all that for nothing, if some particularly nasty person gets up and says he didn't?

You see what a horrible position you'd be in, don't you?”

Mrs. Levitt didn't answer. Her face thickened slightly with a dreadful flush. Her nerve was going.

Barbara watched it go. She followed up her advantage. ”And supposing I were to tell everybody--his friend, Major Markham, say--that you were pressing him for that five hundred, immediately _after_ the affair of Wednesday, on threats of exposure, wouldn't that look very like blackmail?”

”Blackmail? _Really_, Miss Madden--”

”I don't suppose you _mean_ it for blackmail; I'm only pointing out what it'll look like. It won't look _well_.... Much better face the facts.

You _can't_ do Mr. Waddington any real harm, short of forcing his wife to get a separation.”

There was a black gleam in Mrs. Levitt's eyes. ”Precisely. And supposing--since we _are_ supposing--I told Mrs. Waddington of his behaviour?”

”Too late. Mr. Waddington has told her himself.”

”His own version.”

”Certainly, his own version.”

”And supposing I gave mine?”

”Do. Whatever you say it'll be your word against ours and she won't believe you. If she did she'd think it was all your fault.... And remember, I have the evidence for your attempts at blackmail.

”I don't think,” said Barbara, going to the door and opening it, ”there's anything more to be said.”

Mrs. Levitt walked out with her agitated waddle. Barbara followed her amicably to the front door. There Elise made her last stand.

”_Good_ afternoon, Miss Madden. I congratulate Mr. Waddington--on the partners.h.i.+p.”

Barbara rushed to the relief of the besieged in his office redoubt.

”It's all over!” she shouted at him joyously.