“Did I not tell you to issue execution against his goods without delay?” demanded Heathcote, angrily.
“I obeyed your commands, sir, as soon as the usual forms were gone through,” responded Green: “but in the interval the man, knowing the steps you were taking against him, sold off everything and ran away—no one can tell whither.”
“Then all your intelligence is evil this afternoon, Mr. Green?” said Heathcote. “What about Mrs. Sefton?”
“The spy that I set to watch her has reported her removal from Kentish Town to a house at Bayswater, sir,” answered Green; “and as she has a young lady with her—a Miss Vernon, it appears—she does not seem to be busying herself in any way that might interfere with your interests.”
“But that insolent young nobleman—that Lord William Trevelyan?” demanded Heathcote.
“I do not think he is troubling himself any more in the business, sir,” answered Green.
“Good and well!” ejaculated the attorney. “These latter tidings constitute something like an agreeable set-off in respect to all your former communications. Hah!” he cried, suddenly interrupting himself, as the clock proclaimed the hour: “five already! Well, you may go now, Green—and see that your spies keep a good look-out upon the movements of Mrs. Sefton and Lord William Trevelyan.”
“I will, sir,” was the reply; and the clerk bowed himself out of the office.
Half an hour afterwards Mr. Green was wending his way towards the aristocratic quarters of the West End; and at length he entered a respectable-looking public-house in the neighbourhood of Portland Place.
Having called for some refreshment, he took up the newspaper to while away the time until the arrival of the person whom he was expecting: but he could not settle his thoughts to the perusal of the journal. He read an article through, from beginning to end; and, when he reached the termination, he had not retained a single idea of the subject.