"Where's Lady Clifford?"
"I expects she's still lying down, Sir Charles, but I'm not sure.
Would you like to see her?"
"No, no, not at all, not at all. I'd like to speak to my son alone; I don't want her to interrupt us."
"I'll see to it, Sir Charles; don't worry."
He appeared satisfied. When some minutes later Roger came in, Esther left him with his father, merely cautioning him against staying too long. Roger watched her till the door had closed behind her, then he drew a chair beside the bed. He saw that the old man was fumbling ineffectually in the effort to get at something under his pillow.
"Here, I'll do that for you," Roger said, coming to his aid. "What is it, anyhow?"
"Only that copy of my will. I want you to put it away again. No good leaving it about for people to pry into."
Roger smiled at the invalid's native cautiousness. He had to lift his head before he was able to extract the document, planted under the very centre of the pillow.
"Pretty safe there, eh?" Sir Charles commented with a gleam of humour. "Just as well, just as well. Take it now and lock it up, then come back. I've something to say to you."
When Roger returned, he had several minutes to wait before his father spoke again. The ill man seemed to be husbanding his resources as well as considering how best to begin. At last he moistened his dry lips and made an effort.