Read Online The Lodger by Marie Belloc Lowndes - Free Book Online

again, "I've
got upset - that's what I've done," and then she spoke aloud, "I
must get myself a dose at the chemist's next time I'm out. That's
what I must do."
      And just as she murmured the word "do," there came a
loud double knock on the front door.
      It was only the postman's knock, but the postman was
an unfamiliar visitor in that house, and Mrs. Bunting started
violently. She was nervous, that's what was the matter with her, -
so she told herself angrily. No doubt this was a letter for Mr.
Sleuth; the lodger must have relations and acquaintances somewhere
in the world. All gentlefolk have. But when she picked the small
envelope off the hall floor, she saw it was a letter from Daisy,
her husband's daughter.
      "Bunting!" she called out sharply. "Here's a letter
for you."
      She opened the door of their sitting-room and looked
in. Yes, there was her husband, sitting back comfortably in his
easy chair, reading a paper. And as she saw his broad, rather
rounded back, Mrs. Bunting felt a sudden thrill of sharp
irritation. There he was, doing nothing - in fact, doing worse than
nothing - wasting his time reading all about those horrid
crimes.
      She sighed - a long, unconscious sigh. Bunting was
getting into idle ways, bad ways for a man of his years. But how
could she prevent it? He had been such an active, conscientious
sort of man when they had first made acquaintance.. .
      She also could remember, even more clearly than
Bunting did himself, that first meeting of theirs in the
dining-room of No. 90 Cumberland Terrace. As she had stood there,
pouring out her mistress's glass of port wine, she had not been too
much absorbed in her task to have a good out-of-her-eye look at the
spruce, nice, respectable-looking fellow who was standing over by
the window. How superior he had appeared even then to the man she
already hoped he would succeed as butler!
      To-day, perhaps because she was not feeling quite
herself, the past rose before her very vividly, and a lump came
into her throat.
      Putting the letter addressed to her husband on the
table, she closed the door softly, and went down into the kitchen;
there were various little things to put away and clean up, as well
as their dinner to cook. And all the time she was down there she
fixed her mind obstinately, determinedly on Bunting and on the
problem of Bunting. She wondered what she'd better do to get him
into good ways again.
      Thanks to Mr. Sleuth, their outlook was now
moderately bright. A week ago everything had seemed utterly
hopeless. It seemed as if nothing could save them from disaster.
But everything was now changed!
      Perhaps it would be well for her to go and see the
new proprietor of that registry office, in Baker Street, which had
lately changed hands. It would be a good thing for Bunting to get
even an occasional job - for the matter of that he could now take
up a fairly regular thing in the way of waiting. Mrs. Bunting knew
that it isn't easy to get a man out of idle ways once he has
acquired those ways.
      When, at last, she went upstairs again she felt a
little ashamed of what she had been thinking, for Bunting had laid
the cloth, and laid it very nicely, too, and brought up the two
chairs to the table.
      "Ellen?" he cried eagerly, "here's news! Daisy's
coming to-morrow! There's scarlet fever in their house. Old Aunt
thinks she'd better come away for a few days. So, you see, she'll
be here for her birthday. Eighteen, that's what she be on the
nineteenth! It do make me feel old - that it do!"
      Mrs. Bunting put down the tray. "I can't have the
girl here just now," she said shortly. "I've just as much to do as
I can manage. The lodger gives me more trouble than you seem to
think for."
      "Rubbish!" he said sharply. "I'll help you with the
lodger. It's your own fault you haven't had help with him before.
Of course, Daisy must come here. Whatever other place could the
girl go to?"
      Bunting felt pugnacious - so cheerful as to