"I'm quite at your disposal, Miss Fletcher. Won't you sit down? All right, Glass: you can wait outside."
"You have such a kind face," Miss Fletcher told him. "Quite unlike what one expected. I feel I can talk to you. Are you sure you won't have something? A little coffee and a sandwich?"
"No, really, thank you. What was it you wanted to say to me, Miss Fletcher?"
"I'm afraid you'll say I'm wasting your time. So silly of me not to have asked dear Mr. Lawrence while he was here! We have known him for so many years that I always say he is more like a friend than a solicitor, though of course there is no reason why he shouldn't be both, as indeed I hope he feels he is. It was particularly foolish of me, because it is just the sort of thing he would know."
"What is it, Miss Fletcher?" asked Hannasyde, breaking into the gentle flow of words.
"Well, it's the reporters," she confided. "Poor things, one knows they have their living to earn, and it must be very disagreeable work, when one comes to think of it, and one doesn't want to be unkind -'
"Are they worrying you?" interrupted Hannasyde. "All you have to do is to tell your butler to say that you have no statement to make."
"It seems so very disobliging," she said doubtfully. "And one of them looks dreadfully under-nourished. At the same time, I should very much dislike to see my photograph in the papers."
"Of course. The less you say to them the better, Miss Fletcher."
"Well, that's what I thought," she said. "Only my nephew is so naughty about it. It's only his fun, but you never know how much people will believe, do you? I suppose you wouldn't just hint to him that he oughtn't to do it? I feel that what you said would carry more weight than what I say."