Smeaton tells me that this has now taken the form of
imagining that some one is conspiring to poison him with
copper, against which he takes the most extravagant
precautions. It is the strangest sight, he says, to see
Cullingworth at his meals; for he sits with an elaborate
chemical apparatus and numerous retorts and bottles at
his elbow, with which he tests samples of every course.
I could not help laughing at Smeaton's description, and
yet it was a laugh with a groan underlying it. Of all
ruins, that of a fine man is the saddest.
I never thought I should have seen Cullingworth
again, but fate has brought us together. I have always
had a kindly feeling for him, though I feel that he used
me atrociously. Often I have wondered whether, if I were
placed before him, I should take him by the throat or by
the hand. You will be interested to hear what actually
occurred.
One day, just a week or so back, I was starting
on my round, when a boy arrived with a note. It fairly
took my breath away when I saw the familiar writing, and
realised that Cullingworth was in Birchespool. I called
Winnie, and we read it together.
"Dear Munro," it said, "James is in lodgings here for
a few days. We are on the point of leaving England. He
would be glad, for the sake of old times, to have a chat
with you before he goes.
"Yours faithfully,
"HETTY CULLINGWORTH."
The writing was his and the style of address, so that
it was evidently one of those queer little bits of
transparent cunning which were characteristic of him, to
make it come from his wife, that he might not lay himself
open to a direct rebuff.
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