Barrington hesitated for a moment. Aynesworth was civil, but inquiring. He felt himself very awkwardly placed.
“Mr. Aynesworth,” he said, “I must throw myself upon your consideration. You can possibly surmise the reason of my visit.”
Aynesworth shook his head.
“I am afraid,” he said, “that I must plead guilty to denseness—in this particular instance, at any rate. I am altogether at a loss to account for it.”
“You have had some conversation with my wife, I believe?”
“Yes. But—”
“Before you proceed, Mr. Aynesworth,” Barrington interrupted, “one word. You are aware that Sir Wingrave Seton is in possession of certain documents in which my wife is interested, which he refuses to give up?”
“I have understood that such is the case,” Aynesworth admitted. “Will you pardon me if I add that it is a matter which I can scarcely discuss?”
Barrington shrugged his shoulders.
“Let it go, for the moment,” he said. “There is something else which I want to say to you.”