“The Brokers’ Association—he goes after brokers.”
Gordon seldom laughed, but he was laughing softly now.
“And you have been following me round to protect me, eh?”
“Not exactly that, sir,” said Mr. Superbus with professional reserve. “What I was trying to do was to get to know you, so that I’d make no mistake if Dan tried to ‘double’ you.”
“Have a cigar?” said Gordon.
Mr. Superbus said he didn’t mind if he did; that he would take it home, and smoke it in the seclusion of his own house.
“My good lady likes the smell of a cigar,” he said. “It keeps away the moths. I’ve been married now for three and twenty years, and there isn’t a better woman on the face of the earth than my good lady.”
“A Roman?” asked Gordon.
“No, sir,” replied Mr. Superbus gravely. “Devonshire.”
Diana, coming into the room half an hour later, saw Gordon standing with his back to the fireplace, his hands clasped behind him, his head slightly bent, a picture of practical thought.