There was reason enough for the large and angry blush that darkened Gordon’s face.
“No, of course not. Business. Nothing at all to do with a lady.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” said Trenter, and was.
“We won’t discuss my mission. What I want to say is this. Miss Ford, who is rather of a nervous disposition, has asked me to send her wires at intervals of the journey....”
“And you want me to go to Scotland and send them,” said Trenter brilliantly. Gordon had never respected his servant’s intelligence so much as he did at that moment.
“Exactly. It will save me a lot of worry. And,” he added mysteriously, “if the wires fall into other hands, they will help deceive a Certain Person!”
Trenter nodded wisely. He couldn’t guess who the Certain Person was: even Gordon did not know. But lying grew easier with practice—he had grown reckless.
“Not a word of this in the servants’ hall,” warned Gordon.
The servitor smiled. Gordon had not seen him smile before. It was a strange sight.
“No, sir; I shall tell them that my aunt in Bristol is ill (which she is) and that you’ve given me leave. How long do you want me to be away, sir?”