“No,” said Mr Grimstone, “because he said he didn’t want Mr Ruddle to know. I say, what would you do? I shouldn’t like to offend Lister.”
“Do? Well, I’ve lent the money,” said Mr Jabez, taking a savage pinch.
“And would you do the same if you were me?” replied Mr Grimstone. “It’s a lot of money; years of savings, you know, and—”
He made some kind of gesticulation, and I fancy he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at me.
“Look here, Grace,” said Mr Rowle, “go downstairs and ask Mr Ruddle to send me up Mr Hendry’s letter about his book.”
I got down off my stool, and left them together in the glass case, going straight down to the office, where, in place of Mr Ruddle, I round Mr Lister, and told him my business.
“I don’t know where it is,” he replied. “I leave it till Mr Ruddle comes in. But look here, Grace, I wanted you. Miss Carr was asking how you got on. Take this note there—you know where she lives—and give it to her herself. But before you go up there take this note to Norfolk Street, Strand. No answer.”
He took four written slips of stamped blue paper from his pocket, and I saw him write across them, blot them hastily, and refold and place them in a letter, which he carefully sealed. After which, I noticed that he tore off and destroyed the piece of blotting-paper that he had used. I thought no more of it then, but it came up in connection with matters that afterwards occurred.
I hurried upstairs, and told Mr Jabez Rowle that Mr Lister wanted me to go out, Mr Grimstone being still in close conference with him in the glass case.
“Where are you going, boy?” said the latter.