Mr. Judson was still babbling.

“It’s true.  There ain’t a doubt of it now.  It’s been and happened just as I said that night.”

“What did you say?  Which night?” inquired Ashe.

“That night at dinner—­the first night you two came here.  Don’t you remember me talking about Freddie and the girl he used to write letters to in London—­the girl I said was so like you, Miss Simpson?  What was her name again?  Joan Valentine.  That was it.  The girl at the theater that Freddie used to send me with letters to pretty nearly every evening.  Well, she’s been and done it, same as I told you all that night she was jolly likely to go and do.  She’s sticking young Freddie up for his letters, just as he ought to have known she would do if he hadn’t been a young fathead.  They’re all alike, these girls—­every one of them.”

Mr. Judson paused, subjected the surrounding scenery to a cautious scrutiny and resumed.

“I took a suit of Freddie’s clothes away to brush just now; and happening”—­Mr. Judson paused and gave a little cough—­“happening to glance at the contents of his pockets I come across a letter.  I took a sort of look at it before setting it aside, and it was from a fellow named Jones; and it said that this girl, Valentine, was sticking onto young Freddie’s letters what he’d written her, and would see him blowed if she parted with them under another thousand.  And, as I made it out, Freddie had already given her five hundred.

“Where he got it is more than I can understand; but that’s what the letter said.  This fellow Jones said he had passed it to her with his own hands; but she wasn’t satisfied, and if she didn’t get the other thousand she was going to bring an action for breach.  And now Freddie has given me a note to take to this Jones, who is stopping in Market Blandings.”

Joan had listened to this remarkable speech with a stunned amazement.  At this point she made her first comment: 

“But that can’t be true.”

“Saw the letter with my own eyes, Miss Simpson.”

“But——­”

She looked at Ashe helplessly.  Their eyes met—­hers wide with perplexity, his bright with the light of comprehension.

“It shows,” said Ashe slowly, “that he was in immediate and urgent need of money.”

“You bet it does,” said Mr. Judson with relish.  “It looks to me as though young Freddie had about reached the end of his tether this time.  My word!  There won’t half be a kick-up if she does sue him for breach!  I’m off to tell Mr. Beach and the rest.  They’ll jump out of their skins.”  His face fell.  “Oh, Lord, I was forgetting this note.  He told me to take it at once.”

“I’ll take it for you,” said Ashe.  “I’m not doing anything.”

Mr. Judson’s gratitude was effusive.

“You’re a good fellow, Marson,” he said.  “I’ll do as much for you another time.  I couldn’t hardly bear not to tell a bit of news like this right away.  I should burst or something.”