“No,” agreed Giles, with intent. “Whatever a two-pair back may be it isn't anything like the Eaton Place house.”
Kenneth took his pipe out of his mouth. “Let's get this straight!” he requested. “Nothing would make me live in that high-class mansion, or any other remotely resembling it! That's final, and you may tell Violet so with my loving compliments.”
“All right. Where do you propose to live?”
“Where I'm living now. If Violet wants ropes of pearls, and a brocade bed, and a Rolls-Royce, she can have 'em, but there it ends. I utterly refuse to alter my habits.” He stood up, and pushed the lock of hair back from his forehead. “You can also tell her,” he said, his eyes very bright all at once, “that these hands” - he flung them out, the fingers spread wide - “are worth more than all Arnold's filthy money, and when he's been forgotten for centuries people will still be talking about me!”
Charles Carrington blinked, and looked to see how Hannasyde received this sudden outburst. Hannasyde was watching Kenneth. He said nothing. Kenneth's brilliant, challenging eyes came to rest on his impassive face. “That's what you don't yet grasp!” hr said. “I might have killed Arnold because I loathed him, and his money-grubbing mind, and his vulgar tastes, but not for his two hundred and fifty thousand pounds!”
“Don't you want his two hundred and fifty thousand pounds?” asked Hannasyde conversationally.
“Don't ask me dam' silly questions,” snapped Kenneth, “Of course I do! Who wouldn't?”
Hannasyde got up. “No one of my acquaintance,” he answered. “I've no more questions to ask you at the moment, dam' silly or otherwise.”
“Good,” said Kenneth. “Then I'll depart. Don't forget to come round tonight Giles. And mind the wolf! According to Murgatroyd it's at the door. Good-bye, Uncle. Give my love to Aunt Janet.”
“I must be going too,” said Hannasyde, as the door shut behind Kenneth. “I may act as I think fit with regard to this letter, Mr Carrington?”