Mr. Blatherwick coughed apologetically, and watched the extinction of the cigar by his side with obvious satisfaction.
“You would, I am sure, prefer,” he said, “that I gave you a perfectly straightforward answer to that question. I—er—cannot conceive that the work upon which his lordship and I are engaged can be of the slightest interest or use to anybody. I can assure you, Lord Wolfenden, that my brain at times reels—positively reels—from the extraordinary nature of the manuscripts which your father has passed on to me to copy. It is not that they are merely technical, they are absolutely and entirely meaningless. You ask me for my opinion, Lord Wolfenden, and I conceive it to be my duty to answer you honestly. I am quite sure that his lordship is not in a fit state of mind to undertake any serious work.”
“The person who wrote that letter,” Wolfenden remarked, “thought otherwise.”
“The person who wrote that letter,” Mr. Blatherwick retorted quickly, “if indeed it was written in good faith, is scarcely likely to know so much about his lordship’s condition of mind as I, who have spent the greater portion of every day for three months with him.”
“Do you consider that my father is getting worse, Mr. Blatherwick?” Wolfenden asked.
“A week ago,” Mr. Blatherwick said, “I should have replied that his lordship’s state of mind was exactly the same as when I first came here. But there has been a change for the worse during the last week. It commenced with his sudden, and I am bound to say, unfounded suspicions of Miss Merton, whom I believe to be a most estimable and worthy young lady.”
Mr. Blatherwick paused, and appeared to be troubled with a slight cough. The smile, which Wolfenden was not altogether able to conceal, seemed somewhat to increase his embarrassment.
“The extraordinary occurrence of last night, which her ladyship has probably detailed to you,” Mr. Blatherwick continued, “was the next development of what, I fear, we can only regard as downright insanity. I regret having to speak so plainly, but I am afraid that any milder phrase would be inapplicable.”
“I am very sorry to hear this,” Wolfenden remarked gravely.
“Under the circumstances,” Mr. Blatherwick said, picking up his cigar which was now extinct, and immediately laying it down again, “I trust that you and Lady Deringham will excuse my not giving the customary notice of my desire to leave. It is of course impossible for me to continue to draw a—er—a stipend such as I am in receipt of for services so ludicrously inadequate.”