It would
be necessary for some time to come to allude to the Crompton property
more or less, and it was just as well to begin at once; it was also less
embarrassing to do so in the presence of a third person.
"Yes, Solomon, I knew Mr. Carew was dead," said Harry, gravely. The next
instant she turned scarlet with the consciousness of her thoughtless
indiscretion.
"Oh," grunted her husband, annoyed at what he deemed her sulky manner,
when he himself was so graciously inclined to be conciliatory, and also
displeased to find his news anticipated, "you've been buying an evening
paper, have you? You must have more money than you know what to do with,
it seems to me."
Harry was thankfully accepting this imputation in silence, when Mrs.
Basil's soft voice was heard. "No, Sir; it was I who told your good
lady. I had a letter from Crompton by the afternoon's post."
"The devil you did!" cried Solomon, turning sharply upon her. "How came
that about?"
"I was housekeeper at Crompton, Sir, in old Mrs. Carew's time, for some
years, and one of the servants wrote to let me know of the accident."
"Housekeeper, were you?" said Solomon, with interest. "That must have
been a good place, with deuced good pickings, eh?"
"Solomon, Solomon," remonstrated his wife, in a low voice, "Mrs.
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