"Particularly more," observed Beaumont, indolently. "Are you coming back, Nestley? I'll be glad of a companion."
Nestley hesitated. He did not like Beaumont, and mistrusted him. Still, there was a wonderful fascination about the man which few could resist, and in spite of his dislike Nestley rapidly found himself falling once more under the old spell of that suave, cynical manner.
"I don't mind," he said, carelessly, "particularly as I want to give you a message from the Squire."
"To me?" said Beaumont in surprise. "What about?"
"A picture. The squire wants his portrait taken, and----"
"You thought of me," said Beaumont, with a cold smile; "how charming you are, my dear Nestley. I'll be delighted to paint the Squire, he's a Rembrandtian study, full of light and shade and wrinkles."
"Where are you going to, Mr. Blake?" asked Nestley, abruptly turning to the young man and eyeing him keenly.
"To the Grange," replied Blake carelessly, "to see the Squire. Good morning, gentlemen," and with a cool nod, the young man strolled away in the direction of Garsworth Grange.
Nestley stood looking after him oddly.
"To see the Squire," he repeated. "Yes and Una Challoner."