“As to that,” Jarvis said quietly, “I can assure you that your time is worth all and more than you receive for it. But——”
He looked down and fingered his driving gloves absent-mindedly.
“There have been certain events, transpiring since the date of your engagement—your agreement, I should say better—with the person of whom we are speaking, which would seem to indicate that possibly—mind I say possibly, I cannot speak certainly as yet—but possibly your services may not be required at all.”
“What must I do? Of course the money——”
“Naturally, a part of it will be forfeited to you,” said Jarvis coolly.
To all outward appearance he was the hard-headed man of affairs discussing a disputed contract.
“I attended to that for you,” he went on. “It is nothing more than fair, since you still hold yourself in readiness to fill your part of the contract.”
Barbara was gazing at him with parted lips.
“I chanced to meet an acquaintance of yours this afternoon,” Jarvis went on, his observant eyes on her face. “A—er—Mr. Whitcomb.”
Her look puzzled him.