At last they were shown into the presence.
The solicitor, who had been hoping to congratulate them as lovers, was much disappointed. Still, his hopes were not dashed, and, wisely making no attempt to thaw the atmosphere, begged to be told the nature of the trouble.
Virgil stammered the facts. He was careful to tell nothing but the truth. But for Sarah’s presence, he would have gone further, and told the whole truth . . . but for Sarah’s presence . . .
Forsyth heard him out gravely. Then he rang for a clerk.
“Get me on to Claridge’s,” he said.
In silence the three awaited the connection.
Presently a bell throbbed.
Forsyth picked up the receiver.
“Is that Claridge’s? Put me on to the hall-porter. . . . Hullo! . . . This is Forsyth and Co., solicitors. . . . Yes, Mr. Forsyth. . . . I understand a lady calling herself ‘Miss Townshend,’ has been asking for Mr. Pardoner. . . . Yes? . . . Sitting in the hall now, is she? Good. Tell her that he will be there to see her at three o’clock. . . . Right. . . . Good-bye.”
“But, look here,” said Virgil, “I’m not going to——”