CHAPTER XXVI.
Mr. Grierson Tries His Hand
For some moments Roger was incapable of speech. This disclosure was so totally unexpected, so entirely the reverse of anything that he had ever imagined, that at first it literally took his breath away. He could only stand and stare, as if his eyes were about to pop out of his head, at the two entirely unmoved persons who had sprung this overwhelming surprise upon him.
“Is that what you wished to know?” Jefferson asked courteously. “Or would you wish my wife to confirm it?”
“Oh, no; no need at all,” Roger gasped, doing his best to pull himself together. “I—I should like to apologise to you for the apparent impertinence of my questions and to—to congratulate you, if you will allow me to do so.”
“Very kind,” Jefferson muttered. Lady Stanworth, or Lady Jefferson as she was now, bowed slightly.
“If you don’t want me any more, Harry,” she said to her husband, “there are one or two things I have to do.”
“Certainly,” Jefferson said, opening the door for her.
She passed out without another glance at Roger.
“Look here, Jefferson,” exclaimed the latter impulsively, as soon as the door was closed again, “I know you must be thinking me the most appalling bounder, but you must believe that I shouldn’t have tackled you in that way if I hadn’t got very solid and serious reasons for doing so. As things have turned out, I can’t tell you at present what those reasons are; but really it’s something of the greatest possible importance.”
“Oh, that’s all right, Sheringham,” Jefferson returned with gruff amiability. “Guessed you must have something up your sleeve. Bit awkward, though. Ladies, and all that, y’know,” he added vaguely.