He was just hard at work, trying whether it was possible to connect this with his enemy’s disappearance, when he became aware of the fact that after nodding very peacefully, as if bowing to the counterfeit resemblance of his old friend on the wall, the lawyer suddenly sat up with a jerk.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said confusedly; “I am not used to this sort of thing.”
“Then lie down on the sofa and have a nap, sir,” said the young man quietly.
“No, I am not going to give in; but do you know, Mr Blank, I think a cigar and a good glass of toddy would be pleasant, soothing, stimulating and everything good one could say of it.”
“Yes, it would be pleasant,” said George Harrington smiling.
“Then I shall take the liberty, as executor, and poor old James Harrington’s friend, of helping myself.”
“Easier to propose than to perform,” said the old lawyer, after an examination. “Sideboard, cupboards, cellarettes and sarcophagus all locked up. Can’t rouse the ladies; it would be brutal. But I tell you what; I know. Come with me.”
He led the way into the hall, lit a candle, and, leaving it on the slab, went softly into the study, followed by George.
“Still asleep?” he whispered.
“Yes, and calmer,” was the reply.