With Roger to think was, in nine cases out of ten, to leap into precipitate action. Almost before the thought had completed its passage through his mind, he was on his feet and striding eagerly towards the house.
Without troubling to knock he burst open the door of the morning room and walked in. Jefferson was seated in front of the table in the centre of the room, surrounded, as Roger’s mind’s eye had seen him, with papers and documents. Lady Stanworth was not present.
He glanced up as Roger entered.
“Hullo, Sheringham,” he said in some surprise. “Anything I can do for you?”
“Well, I was smoking out there in the garden with nothing to do,” Roger remarked with a friendly smile, “when it occurred to me that instead of wasting my time like that I might be giving you a hand here; you said you were up to the eyes in it. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Damned good of you,” Jefferson replied, a little awkwardly, “but I don’t really think there’s anything. I’m trying to tabulate a statement of his financial position. Something like that is sure to be wanted when the will’s proved, or whatever the rigmarole is.”
“Well, surely there’s something I can do to help you out, isn’t there?” Roger asked, sitting on a corner of the table. “Add up tremendous columns of figures, or something like that?”
Jefferson hesitated and glanced round at the papers in front of him. “Well,” he said slowly.
“Of course if there’s anything particularly private in Stanworth’s affairs——!” Roger remarked airily.
Jefferson looked up quickly. “Private? There’s nothing particularly private about them. Why should there be?”