“No, but that's just the type of man Warrenby was too,” Charles said.
“We don't know he was, dear: he wasn't here during the War.”
“At all events, he wasn't the kind of man the Squire usually encourages.”
“Oh, no, not in the least! I must say,” remarked Mrs. Haswell reflectively, “I have sometimes wondered why he bothered to be nice to him, particularly when poor Mr. Drybeck disliked him so much.”
“He did dislike him, didn't he?” said Abby eagerly.
“Well, dear, I'm afraid we all did.”
“But Mr. Drybeck much more than most people. Charles, I can't think how you can be so dim about this! Going on and on about Mavis, when all the evidence points to Mr. Drybeck!”
“It doesn't. Besides,—”
“Yes, it does,” Abby insisted. “He had a motive, for one thing. Not just hating Warrenby, but being done down by him, which I know from things Aunt Miriam's told me. Losing clients to him, and Warrenby pulling fast ones on him.”
“Abby, my sweet, be your age!” Charles besought her. “Look at poor old Thaddeus! The most respectable body!”