“To be sure you can; but,” he added, catching a glimpse of the anxious expression of my face, “there is nothing wrong, is there?”
I made a gesture indicative of silence, and he opened a door into a sort of lawyer's office, saying, in a low voice:—
“Come in here, we shall not be interrupted; the governor's in London, and the women are out walking”. “So much the better,” replied I, “for the business I am come upon is strictly private, and will not brook delay.” I then told him as concisely as possible the whole affair from beginning to end; he listened attentively to my recital, merely asking a question now and then to elucidate any particular point he did not clearly understand. I fancy he made a gesture of surprise when I first mentioned Wilford's name, and when I had concluded, he asked,
“Wilford, you say, this man's name is? What is his Christian name?”
“Stephen.”
“And he's a young fellow?”
“About three or four and twenty.”
“And you want to prevent his being able to shoot Harry Oaklands at five o'clock to-morrow morning?”
“I do not know the hour, but I conclude the meeting will probably take place to-morrow morning. Wilford would not wish to remain in the neighbourhood longer than necessary, lest he should attract attention.”
Coleman mused for some minutes, and then muttering as though he were thinking aloud—