“Why, I am sorry.” said Sir Anthony. “I confess I have an ambition to meet the begetter of so worldly-wise a youth.”
“No doubt my father would surprise you, sir,” said Prudence, with truth. “It’s a remarkable old gentleman.”
“No doubt he would,” agreed Fanshawe. “I find that life is full of surprises.”
For a moment grey eyes met grey. “The sudden appearance of the lost Viscount, for instance,” said Prudence lightly.
“Precisely. And the no less sudden appearance of the Pretender not so long back.”
So that was the gist of the matter, was it? Prudence drew in her breath.
The lazy voice continued. “And — when one thinks of it — the sudden appearance of the Merriots.”
“Oh, that! Sudden to you, I make no doubt, but believe me it was not sudden to us. My sister was in a fever of anticipation for weeks before.”
The danger point seemed to be past. Sir Anthony preserved a thoughtful silence.
“You did not go down to your house at Wych End after all, sir,” remarked Prudence at length.