"There!" she said. "It's all up with Madame now. You've got the game in
your own hands, my lady, and can send them all packing."
The letter was addressed to my husband in London. Price had seized the
arm of Alma's maid in the act of posting it, and under threat of the law
(not to speak of instant personal chastisement) the girl had confessed
that both this letter and others had been written by our housekeeper
under the inspiration of her mistress.
Without any compunction Price broke the seal of the intercepted letter
and read it aloud to me. It was a shocking thing, accusing me with
Martin, and taunting my husband with the falseness of the forthcoming
entertainment.
Feeling too degraded to speak, I took the letter in silence out of my
maid's hands, and while I was in the act of locking it away in a drawer
Alma came up with a telegram from my husband, saying he was leaving
London by the early train the following morning and would arrive at
Blackwater at half-past three in the afternoon.
"Dear old Jimmy!" she said, "what a surprise you have in store for him!
But of course you've told him already, haven't you? .
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