“We were fellow workers for several months,” Mr. Blatherwick reminded him; “naturally, we saw a good deal of one another.”
“She is,” Wolfenden continued, “a very charming girl.”
“I consider her, in every way,” Mr. Blatherwick said with enthusiasm, “a most delightful young lady. I—I am very much attached to her.”
Wolfenden laid his hand on the secretary’s shoulder.
“Blatherwick,” he said, “you’re a good fellow, and I like you. Don’t be offended at what I am going to say. You must not trust Miss Merton; she is not quite what she appears to you.”
Mr. Blatherwick took a step backward, and flushed red with anger.
“I do not understand you, Lord Wolfenden,” he said. “What do you know of Miss Merton?”
“Not very much,” Wolfenden said quietly; “quite enough, though, to justify me in warning you seriously against her. She is a very clever young person, but I am afraid a very unscrupulous one.”
Mr. Blatherwick was grave, almost dignified.
“Lord Wolfenden,” he said, “you are the son of my employer, but I take the liberty of telling you that you are a l—l——”