"Not--true?" said Mr. Wotton, catching his breath painfully. "Wish I
may die----"

"About the desert island," continued the old lady, calmly. "The story
that I heard was that he went off like a cur and left his young wife to
do the best she could for herself. I suppose he's heard since that she
has come in for a bit of money."

"Money!" repeated Mr. Wotton, in a voice that he fondly hoped expressed
artless surprise. "Money!"

"Money," said the old lady; "and I suppose he sent you two gentlemen
round to see how the land lay."

She was looking full at Mr. Davis as she spoke, and both men began to
take a somewhat sombre view of the situation.

"You didn't know him, else you wouldn't talk like that," said Mr. Wotton.
"I don't suppose you'd know 'im if you was to see him now."

"I don't suppose I should," said the other.

"P'r'aps you'd reckernize his voice?" said Mr. Davis, breaking silence
at last.

Mr. Wotton held his breath, but the old lady merely shook her head
thoughtfully. "It was a disagreeable voice when his wife used to hear
it," she said at last. "Always fault-finding, when it wasn't swearing."

Mr. Wotton glanced at his friend, and, raising his eyebrows slightly,