“I mean that as this old place and all belonging to it must one day be mine, it will be no very difficult matter to me to recompense the man who has done me a service.”
“And are you the heir, Sir?” asked O’Rorke, for the first time his voice indicating a tone of deference.
“Yes, it all comes to me; but my old relative is bent on trying my patience. What would you say his age was?”
“He’s not far off eighty.”
“He wants six or seven years of it. Indeed, until the other day he did not look seventy. He broke down all at once.”
“That’s the way they all do,” said O’Rorke, sententiously.
“Yes, but now and then they make a rally, Master O’Rorke, and that’s what I don’t fancy; do you understand me?”
In the piercing look that accompanied these words there seemed no common significance, and O’Rorke, drawing closer to the speaker, dropped his voice to a mere whisper, and said, “Do you want to get rid of him?”
“I’d be much obliged to him if he would die,” said the other, with a laugh.
“Of course—of course—that’s what I mean,” said O’Rorke, who now began to suspect he was going too fast.