expense. You'd never have sold those secrets to pay the doctors,
never have gone to prison if it hadn't been for me!" She turned to Fatty,
and touched his sleeve.
"You're kind," she said. "Don't judge my old man
hardly, whatever he says to you. He's paid for what he did, paid over and over
again. But I was so ill, you see, , and we needed money to get me better—and it
was because he loved me that he did wrong."
"Don't worry about anything," said Fatty, touched by the
old woman's confidence in him. "He'll soon get better in hospital. The
ambulance will be here in a few minutes."
"When he came out of prison we changed our name,
you see," said Mrs. Smith, weeping again. "People point
their fingers so when you've done something wrong. We tried to hide ourselves
away, but always somebody found out who we were. And then kind old Mrs. Hasterley
let us come here to caretake the house."
"Mrs. Hasterley!" said Fatty, surprised. "Is she
still alive? She owned this place when it was The Ivies, didn't she?"
"Yes. She's an old old woman now," said Mrs. Smith.
"Older than I am. You've heard of Wilfrid Hasterley, her son, haven't
you—he planned the biggest diamond robbery ever heard of—and got away with it
too—though nobody ever knew where he hid the diamonds. He went to prison for
it, and died there—and broke his father's heart. His mother never got over it
either, and she sold this house at once. My, my—every newspaper in the kingdom
had a picture of this house in it then—The Ivies, it was called ..."
"It was changed to Fairlin Hall after that, wasn't it,"
said Fatty, listening with great interest.
"Yes. But somehow it never got sold," said Mrs. Smith.
"It had a bad name, you see. Poor Mr. Wilfrid. He had some wicked friends.
He wasn't really the bad one, he was just weak and easy-going. The other two
were the clever ones. One went to prison with Mr. Wilfrid—and the other was
never caught. He fled away abroad somewhere—to Burma, I did hear say. Prison's
a dreadful place, young sir—see what it's done to my poor old husband."
"I think I can hear the ambulance, Ern," said Fatty,
raising his head. "Go and see, will you? Ask them to come as far down the
drive as they can."
The old fellow opened his eyes. "Mary," he said,
hoarsely. "Mary. What will you do? Where will you go?"
"I don't know, John, I don't know," said his old wife.
"I'll be all right. I'll come and see you in hospital."
Ern came in at the door. "There's two men and a
stretcher," he said, importantly. "And an awfully nice
nurse. The doctor couldn't come after all, but the nurse knows all about
it."
A rosy-cheeked nurse looked in at the door and took everything in
at a glance. "Is that my patient?" she said in a cheery voice to Mrs.
Smith. "Don't you worry, dear—we'll look after him for you. Here,
Potts—bring the stretcher right inside."
Everything was done very swiftly indeed. It took less than a
minute to get Mr. Smith into the ambulance. He couldn't say good-bye, because
he had another fit of coughing, but his old wife held his hand to the very last
moment. Then the ambulance door was shut and the big van trundled up the drive
and out of the gate.
"I can't pack and go tonight," said Mrs. Smith, looking
dazed. "I feel queer. And I've got nowhere to go."
"Stay here tonight then," said Fatty, "I'll arrange
something for you tomorrow. My mother will know what to do. But you're too
upset and tired to bother about anything. The only thing is, I don't like to
think of you staying here all alone at night, Mrs. Smith."
"I'll stay here with her," said Ern, suddenly. The whole
affair had touched him as nothing else in his life had done. Ern longed to do
something to help, he didn't care what it was—but he had Got To Do Something,
as he put it to himself. And to stay and look after the sad old woman was the
only thing he could think of.
"You're a good-hearted fellow. Ern," said Fatty,
touched. "Thanks awfully. I was going to offer you a bed up at
never have gone to prison if it hadn't been for me!" She turned to Fatty,
and touched his sleeve.
"You're kind," she said. "Don't judge my old man
hardly, whatever he says to you. He's paid for what he did, paid over and over
again. But I was so ill, you see, , and we needed money to get me better—and it
was because he loved me that he did wrong."
"Don't worry about anything," said Fatty, touched by the
old woman's confidence in him. "He'll soon get better in hospital. The
ambulance will be here in a few minutes."
"When he came out of prison we changed our name,
you see," said Mrs. Smith, weeping again. "People point
their fingers so when you've done something wrong. We tried to hide ourselves
away, but always somebody found out who we were. And then kind old Mrs. Hasterley
let us come here to caretake the house."
"Mrs. Hasterley!" said Fatty, surprised. "Is she
still alive? She owned this place when it was The Ivies, didn't she?"
"Yes. She's an old old woman now," said Mrs. Smith.
"Older than I am. You've heard of Wilfrid Hasterley, her son, haven't
you—he planned the biggest diamond robbery ever heard of—and got away with it
too—though nobody ever knew where he hid the diamonds. He went to prison for
it, and died there—and broke his father's heart. His mother never got over it
either, and she sold this house at once. My, my—every newspaper in the kingdom
had a picture of this house in it then—The Ivies, it was called ..."
"It was changed to Fairlin Hall after that, wasn't it,"
said Fatty, listening with great interest.
"Yes. But somehow it never got sold," said Mrs. Smith.
"It had a bad name, you see. Poor Mr. Wilfrid. He had some wicked friends.
He wasn't really the bad one, he was just weak and easy-going. The other two
were the clever ones. One went to prison with Mr. Wilfrid—and the other was
never caught. He fled away abroad somewhere—to Burma, I did hear say. Prison's
a dreadful place, young sir—see what it's done to my poor old husband."
"I think I can hear the ambulance, Ern," said Fatty,
raising his head. "Go and see, will you? Ask them to come as far down the
drive as they can."
The old fellow opened his eyes. "Mary," he said,
hoarsely. "Mary. What will you do? Where will you go?"
"I don't know, John, I don't know," said his old wife.
"I'll be all right. I'll come and see you in hospital."
Ern came in at the door. "There's two men and a
stretcher," he said, importantly. "And an awfully nice
nurse. The doctor couldn't come after all, but the nurse knows all about
it."
A rosy-cheeked nurse looked in at the door and took everything in
at a glance. "Is that my patient?" she said in a cheery voice to Mrs.
Smith. "Don't you worry, dear—we'll look after him for you. Here,
Potts—bring the stretcher right inside."
Everything was done very swiftly indeed. It took less than a
minute to get Mr. Smith into the ambulance. He couldn't say good-bye, because
he had another fit of coughing, but his old wife held his hand to the very last
moment. Then the ambulance door was shut and the big van trundled up the drive
and out of the gate.
"I can't pack and go tonight," said Mrs. Smith, looking
dazed. "I feel queer. And I've got nowhere to go."
"Stay here tonight then," said Fatty, "I'll arrange
something for you tomorrow. My mother will know what to do. But you're too
upset and tired to bother about anything. The only thing is, I don't like to
think of you staying here all alone at night, Mrs. Smith."
"I'll stay here with her," said Ern, suddenly. The whole
affair had touched him as nothing else in his life had done. Ern longed to do
something to help, he didn't care what it was—but he had Got To Do Something,
as he put it to himself. And to stay and look after the sad old woman was the
only thing he could think of.
"You're a good-hearted fellow. Ern," said Fatty,
touched. "Thanks awfully. I was going to offer you a bed up at
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