"Ay," said Wheeler, grimly, "let us see how you will put down _the
foolish woman._ I'll smoke a cigar in the garden, and recover my
temper."
Richard Bassett's retort ran thus:
"I never wrote an anonymous letter in my life; and if I put restraint
upon Sir Charles, it was done to protect the estate. Experienced
physicians represented him homicidal and suicidal; and I protected both
Lady Bassett and himself by the act she has interpreted so harshly.
"As for her last grievance, it is imaginary. My dog is gentle as a
lamb. I did not foresee Lady Bassett would be there, nor that the poor
dog would run and welcome her. She is playing a comedy: the real truth
is, a gentleman had left Huntercombe whose company is necessary to her.
She has gone to join him, and thrown the blame very adroitly upon
"RICHARD BASSETT."
When he had written this Bassett ordered his dog-cart.
Wheeler came in, read the letter, and said the last suggestion in it
was a libel, and an indictable one into the bargain.
"What, if it is true--true to the letter?"
"Even then you would not be safe, unless you could prove it by
disinterested witnesses."
"Well, if I cannot, I consent to cut this sentence out. Excuse me one
minute, I must put a few things in my carpetbag.
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