Aveline Gatliffe rose from her seat, embraced the old nobleman, and crept softly out of the library.
Later in the day Mr. Chicknell made his appearance at Broxbridge—the earl had sent a telegram to him to come down as soon as possible to the Hall.
“I am glad you’ve come, Chicknell,” said Lord Ethalwood, when the lawyer entered the library—“glad for many reasons.”
The man of parchment rubbed the palms of his hands together, and smiled grimly.
“Be seated,” said his patron.
Chicknell drew a chair towards the table and sat down.
“Well, my lord,” he murmured. “Is everything going on as you desire?”
“Pretty well. You have not seen this young man, I suppose?”
“I have not deemed it expedient to do so at present—not till I received further commands from your lordship.”
“You have acted with your usual discretion.”