“Yes, one which I knew you would break, Brownson,” said Dix; “and so I came on first. Now, Colonel Pendarve you will come to terms with me.”
“No, sir,” said the Colonel, fiercely, “nor with your friend here. My mind is quite made up. I do not know to which party the visit of a spy is due, but you may take these words as final; I shall certainly not sell this little estate to either of you, nor,” he added, after a pause, “to anyone else. What, another?” he cried, as Dolly re-appeared at the door.
“No, sir, it’s only Major Jollivet, sir. But he says, if you’re engaged, he’ll call again.”
“Show him in,” cried the Colonel. “Ah, there he goes. Call him back, Gwyn.”
The boy flew to the window, and, in answer to his call, the Major came back, and entered.
“Oh, I didn’t wish to interrupt you, Pendarve, but I wanted to have a few words with you on business. Eh? Yes. Very much better. I shall be all right for a few months now.”
“Let me introduce you,” said the Colonel. “This is Mr Dix, solicitor, of Plymouth, and Mr Brownson, also a solicitor, I presume, of the same town. My old friend and brother officer, Major Jollivet.”
Bows were exchanged, and the visitors scowled at each other.
“Jollivet, these two gentlemen, who represent different companies as clients, have come over to make me a very advantageous offer for this little estate.”
“Indeed!” said the Major, starting. “What for?”