“Fancies, sir?”
“Yes, fancies, man. I would not on any consideration have Mr Vine know that such a suspicion had existed in my office, and—”
He paused for a few moments, and then held out his hand to the old clerk, who took it, and felt his own gripped warmly.
“Come, Crampton,” continued Van Heldre, smiling; “after all these years together, I trust we are something more than master and man. You have always proved yourself a friend in the way in which you have looked after my interests.”
“I’ve always tried to do my duty, Mr Van Heldre.”
“And you always have done your duty—more than duty. Now just go quietly down, and ask Henry Vine to step up-stairs with you. I must have this put straight at once. Crampton, you and my old friend’s son must make a fresh start.”
Crampton’s fresh countenance grew dingy-looking, and Van Heldre felt his hand twitch.
“Come, I tell you that your suspicions are absurd, and I must have you two work well together. The young man only wants a little humouring to make him all that we could wish. Go and fetch him up.”
“He—he is not here this morning, sir,” gasped Crampton, at last.
“Not here?”