I shall perhaps best describe a little incident that had occurred in Burton Crescent during the absence of our friend Eames, and the manner in which things were going on in that locality, by giving at length two letters which Johnny received by post at Guestwick on the morning after Mrs Dale’s party.  One was from his friend Cradell, and the other from the devoted Amelia.  In this instance I will give that from the gentleman first, presuming that I shall best consult my reader’s wishes by keeping the greater delicacy till the last.

   Income-tax office, September 186—.

   My dear Johnny,—­

We have had a terrible affair in the Crescent; and I really hardly know how to tell you; and yet I must do it, for I want your advice.  You know the sort of standing that I was on with Mrs Lupex, and perhaps you remember what we were saying on the platform at the station.  I have, no doubt, been fond of her society, as I might be of that of any other friend.  I knew, of course, that she was a fine woman; and if her husband chose to be jealous, I couldn’t help that.  But I never intended anything wrong; and, if it was necessary, couldn’t I call you as a witness to prove it?  I never spoke a word to her out of Mrs Roper’s drawing-room; and Miss Spruce, or Mrs Roper, or somebody has always been there.  You know he drinks horribly sometimes, but I do not think he ever gets downright drunk.  Well, he came home last night about nine o’clock after one of these bouts.  From what Jemima says [Jemima was Mrs Roper’s parlour-maid] I believe he had been at it down at the theatre for three days.  We hadn’t seen him since Tuesday.  He went straight into the parlour and sent up Jemima to me, to say that he wanted to see me.  Mrs Lupex was in the room and heard the girl summon me, and, jumping up, she declared that if there was going to be bloodshed she would leave the house.  There was nobody else in the room but Miss Spruce, and she didn’t say a word, but took her candle and went upstairs.  You must own it looked very uncomfortable.  What was I to do with a drunken man down in the parlour?  However, she seemed to think I ought to go.  “If he comes up here,” said she, “I shall be the victim.  You little know of what that man is capable, when his wrath has been inflamed by wine!” Now, I think you are aware that I am not likely to be very much afraid of any man; but why was I to be got into a row in such a way as this?  I hadn’t done anything.  And then, if there was to be a quarrel, and anything was to come of it, as she seemed to expect,—­like bloodshed, I mean, or a fight, or if he were to knock me on the head with the poker, where should I be at my office?  A man in a public office, as you and I are, can’t quarrel like anybody else.  It was this that I felt so much at the moment.  “Go down to him,” said she, “unless you wish to see me murdered at your feet.”  Fisher says, that if what I say is true, they must have