“By the way, Mr Lee,” said the banker, “have you obtained apartments? It is a disgrace to our place that the vicarage is not rebuilt.”
“Oh, yes!” said the vicar, mildly, “I have obtained rooms.”
“At Mrs Mullion’s, I presume?”
“No,” said the vicar, turning his glasses for a moment on Geoffrey. “Mr Trethick has taken those.”
“Indeed! Then you are at the hotel?”
“No; I have made arrangements to board with a Miss Pavey, at a very pleasant cottage—Dinas Vale. Good-night!”
“I’ll walk as far as your rooms with you, Mr Trethick,” said Tregenna, as they stepped out into the road. “Have a cigar?”
They lit up, and strolled along the up-and-down ill-paved way, Tregenna evidently laying himself out to make friends with the new arrival, who made himself frank and pleasant, but, somehow, not cordial.
“Drop in and have a chat with me, Mr Trethick,” said Tregenna, at parting. “I may be able to further your views. Any one will show you my place.”
“Know it,” said Geoffrey. “Saw the brass plate on the gate.”