Mutimer set off at once; he returned with
the report that she was between life and death. It was impossible to
remove her.
Adela slept a little between six and eight; her husband took even
shorter rest. When she came down to the sitting-room, he was reading
the morning paper. As she entered he uttered a cry of astonishment
and rage.
'Look here!' he exclaimed to her. 'Read that!'
He pointed to an account of the Irish Dairy Company frauds, in which
it was stated that the secretary, known as Delancey, appeared also
to have borne the name of Rodman.
They gazed at each other.
'Then it was Rodman wrote that letter!' Mutimer cried. 'I'll swear
to it. He did it to injure me at the last moment. Why haven't they
got him yet? The police are useless. But they've got Hilary, I
see--yes, they've got Hilary. He was caught at Dover. Ha, ha! He
denies everything--says he didn't even know of the secretary's
decamping. The lying scoundrel! Says he was going to Paris on
private business. But they've got him! And see here again: "The same
Rodman is at present wanted by the police on a charge of bigamy."
Wanted! If they weren't incompetent fools they'd have had him
already. Ten to one he's out of England.'
It was a day of tumult for Mutimer. At the hospital he found no
encouragement, but he could only leave Alice in the hands of the
doctors.
Pages:
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774