“I suppose so, sir.”
“He has not sent for a solicitor, of course—to make his will, eh?” jocularly. “No, no; of course not.”
“Perhaps you had better ask master about such things as that, sir,” said Mrs Milt, with asperity. “I know nothing about that.”
“You do, you hag!” said Cousin Thompson to himself: “you do, or you wouldn’t be so eager to disclaim all knowledge of such an act—and deed. This must be seen to, for I can’t afford to have you coming between me and my rights, madam. This must be seen to.”
“What would you like to take, sir?”
“Anything, my dear Mrs Milt, anything. Too busy a man to trouble about food. I’m going to see a client, and while I’m gone perhaps you will get a snack ready for me.”
“You will not sleep here, I suppose?”
“But I will sleep here, Mrs Milt,” said Cousin Thompson, smiling. “I do not feel as if I could go back to town without being able to take with me the knowledge that my cousin is in better health.”
“And not at the mercy of thieves and scheming people,” he muttered, as he went off to see Mrs Berens, as he put it, “re shares.”
North’s bedroom bell rang violently as Cousin Thompson disappeared down the road, and Mrs Milt went up to the door and knocked.