"
I attempted to assure Mrs. Merridew that an explosion was not included
in the programme on this occasion.
"No," said the old lady. "I am much obliged to Mr. Jennings--I am aware
that he is only deceiving me for my own good. I prefer plain dealing.
I am quite resigned to the explosion--but I DO want to get it over, if
possible, before I go to bed."
Here the door opened, and Mrs. Merridew uttered another little scream.
The advent of the explosion? No: only the advent of Betteredge.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Jennings," said Betteredge, in his most
elaborately confidential manner. "Mr. Franklin wishes to know where you
are. Being under your orders to deceive him, in respect to the presence
of my young lady in the house, I have said I don't know. That you will
please to observe, was a lie. Having one foot already in the grave, sir,
the fewer lies you expect me to tell, the more I shall be indebted to
you, when my conscience pricks me and my time comes."
There was not a moment to be wasted on the purely speculative question
of Betteredge's conscience. Mr. Blake might make his appearance in
search of me, unless I went to him at once in his own room.
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