The girl laughed shortly.
“He is mad,” she said. “There is no possible doubt about that; you couldn’t live with him a day and doubt it.”
“Hereditary, no doubt,” Mr. Sabin suggested quietly.
Blanche shrugged her shoulders and leaned back yawning.
“Anyhow,” she said, “I’ve had enough of them all. It has been very tiresome work and I am sick of it. Give me some money. I want a spree. I am going to have a month’s holiday.”
Mr. Sabin sat down at his desk and drew out a cheque-book.
“There will be no difficulty about the money,” he said, “but I cannot spare you for a month. Long before that I must have the rest of this madman’s figures.”
The girl’s face darkened.
“Haven’t I told you,” she said, “that there is not the slightest chance of their taking me back? You might as well believe me. They wouldn’t have me, and I wouldn’t go.”
“I do not expect anything of the sort,” Mr. Sabin said. “There are other directions, though, in which I shall require your aid. I shall have to go to Deringham myself, and as I know nothing whatever about the place you will be useful to me there. I believe that your home is somewhere near there.”