“I want one word with you, sir, in your study, please,” Francis said.
Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders and led the way. He turned to wave his hand once more to Margaret and Lady Cynthia, however, and he looked with approval at the luncheon-table which a couple of servants were laying under the cedar tree.
“Wonderful thing, these alfresco meals,” he declared. “I hope Hedges won't forget the maraschino with the melons. Come into my den, Ledsam.”
He led the way in courtly fashion. He was the ideal host leading a valued guest to his sanctum for a few moments' pleasant conversation. But when they arrived in the little beamed room and the door was closed, his manner changed. He looked searchingly, almost challengingly at Francis.
“You have news for me?” he asked.
“Yes!” Francis answered.
Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders. He threw himself a little wearily into an easy-chair. His hands strayed out towards a cigarette box. He selected one and lit it.
“I expected your friend, Mr. Shopland,” he murmured. “I hope he is none the worse for his ducking.”
“Shopland is a fool,” Francis replied. “He has nothing to do with this affair, anyway. I have something to give you, Sir Timothy.”
He took the two papers from his pocket and handed them over.