Pulp Fiction, 1865 · page 140 of 400
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A Tragedy. 125 ‘Mr. Preen said, in his power; but he would pay it by instalments. Ten pounds every six months he would place in Mr. Paul’s hands, to- be handed to Derrick, whom Mr. Preen refused to see. This arrange ment Derrick agreed to. ‘Two instalments had already been paid and the one which seemed to have now miscarried in the post was the third. ‘Mrs. Sym,” began Mr. Preen, when he had dived into the sweet- stuff shop, and confronted the post-mistress behind her counter, ‘ do you recollect, one day last week, my asking you to give me back a letter which I had just posted, addressed to Mr. Paul of Islip, and you refused ? ” ‘Yes, sir, I do,” answered Mrs. Sym. ‘I was sorry, but —-— “Never mind that. What I want to ask you is this: did you notice that letter when you made up the bag?” “TI did, sir. I noticed it particularly in consequence of what had passed. It was sealed with a large red seal.” ‘Justso. Well, Mr. Paul declares that letter has not reached him.” ‘But it must have reached him,” rejoined Mrs. Sym, fastening her glittering spectacles upon the speaker’s face. ‘It had Mr. Paul’s address upon it in plain writing, and it went away from here in the bag with the rest of the letters.” “The letter had a ten-pound note in it.” Mrs. Sym paused. ‘“ Well, sir, if so, that would not endanger the letter’s safety. Who was to know it had? But letters that contain money ought to be registered, Mr. Preen.” ‘You are sure it went away as usual from here—all safe?” “Sure and certain, sir. And I think it must have reached Mr. Paul, if I may say so. He may have overlooked it ; perhaps let it fall into some part of his desk, unopened. Why, some years ago, there was a great fuss made about a letter which was sent to Captain Falkner, when he was living at the Hall. He came here one day, complaining to me that a letter sent to him by post, which had money in it, had never been delivered. The trouble there was over that lost letter, sir, I couldn’t tell you. The Captain accused the post-office in London, for it was London it came from, of never having forwarded it ; then he accused me of not sending it out with the delivery. After all, it was himself who had mislaid the letter. He had somehow let it fall unnoticed into a deep drawer of his writing-table when it was handed to him with other letters at the morning’s delivery ; and there it lay all snug till found, hid away amid amass of papers. What do you think of that, sir?” Mr. Preen did not say. “In all the years I have kept this post-office I can’t call to memory one single letter being lost in the transit,” she ran on, warming in her Own cause. ‘“‘ Why how could it, sir? Once a letter’s sent away safe in the bag, there it must be ; it can’t fall out of it. Your letter _ Was so sent away by me, Mr. Preen, and where should it be if Mr. 7 COMIC OOO (GO) im