"Scarcely," said Guy, who at that moment was by no means inclined to be effusively friendly. "My uncle asked me to bring you this note. He wishes to speak with you on business, I believe; but you will see what he says."
"And how is Mr. Lorraine?" inquired the lawyer, with an air of anxious interest. "How does he bear this severe weather, eh? It is very trying for elderly persons. They tell me that poor old Adam Drake—down the Hundreds, you know—was found dead in his bed this morning."
"Was he? Poor old chap!" said Guy, indifferently. "My uncle is all right, I believe, Mr. Greenwood. The cold does not seem to make any difference to him."
"No? But it may in the long run; he should be careful, indeed he should be careful, Mr. Guy. I was surprised to see him driving in his open gig yesterday. It was not the day for it, indeed."
Guy shrugged his shoulders with some impatience. It was anything but agreeable to him just then to be reminded of the uncertainty of his uncle's life. If he should alter his will and then die without giving him a chance of reinstating himself in his favour!
Mr. Greenwood had opened the note and was reading it. "Hem," he said, "Mr. Lorraine begs me to go out to Wyndham to-day. That is awkward. I happen to be particularly engaged to-day."
"Perhaps uncle could wait till to-morrow," suggested Guy, not without a gleam of hope.
The lawyer shook his head.
"I am afraid not," he said. "He speaks of 'a matter that admits of no delay.' You are sure, by the way, all is right with your uncle? He did not take a chill yesterday?"
"If he did, I have heard nothing of it," said Guy, impatiently. "If you can say at what hour you will be ready, we will send the carriage for you, Mr. Greenwood."