“You would think so,” replied the Earl shortly.
Mr. Brummell looked at him over the rim of his wine-glass. “Well, do you know, I do think so,” he said. “The cocking was a better notion, and if you are satisfied with it, it would be absurd for me to cavil.”
“I am not in the least satisfied with it,” said the Earl. “But something had to be said. If you have any suggestion to offer I shall be glad to hear it. What is in your mind, George?”
“Who,” asked Mr. Brummell, “is the heir to Peregrine’s fortune?”
“To a great extent, his sister.”
Mr. Brummell shook his head. “I cannot feel that Miss-Taverner would be guilty of the impropriety of murdering her brother.”
The Earl poured himself out a glass of wine, and tasted it before he answered. “Murder, George, is a very strong word,” he said. “There was also a groom, and a tilbury, and a pair of horses.”
“True,” agreed Brummell. “Yet I am of the opinion that a resourceful person might—at a pinch—find the means of disposing of a groom, a tilbury and even a pair of horses.”
“It is a possibility that has already occurred to me. It is not, however, one that I intend to present to Miss Taverner.”
Mr. Brummell set down his glass, and opened his snuff-box again. “How many years have I known you, Julian?” he inquired.