John Bradfield was equal to the occasion. Turning so that he faced Marrable, he answered at once:
“Gilbert Wryde’s money! Oh, he left it in the hands of trustees, of course.”
There was a pause, and John turned away, as if feeling that he had satisfied his companion’s thirst for information. But presently Marrable spoke again, and his manner was somewhat lacking in that respect for the rich man which had characterised it on his first arrival:
“You’re one of the trustees, I suppose?”
John Bradfield, very unused of late years to being spoken to in this way, answered curtly enough:
“Yes, I’m one of them. Anything more you want to know?”
“Only this—who are the others?”
“Men you’ve never heard of. Old chums of Wryde’s.”
“Do they live in England?”
“No; out in Australia.”