“Oh, the legal mind!” murmured my lord.
“Why, of course I do, sir! It’s our John, who went off years ago soon after Master Robert.” She turned again to her brother. “And you’ve been with him all the time! Eh, and we never thought of it! But you was always saying you’d be off to Americky to try your fortune, Johnny, and we made sure you’d gone there.”
Mr Brent put a question no one thought needful. “Is this gentleman Viscount Barham?” he said.
John looked scornful. “Ay, of course he is,” he answered. “Is there ever another would have that nose but a Tremaine?”
“You have been with him all these years?”
“I have, sir, and a pretty dance he’s led me.” John smiled grimly at my lord. “Many’s the time I’ve told his lordship I’d be off home again. But we Burtons have always served Tremaine.”
There was a long silence. Mr Brent was slowly putting his papers together; Mr Clapperly smiled knowingly at his son; Rensley stood staring at the floor.
“Cousin,” said my lord. “I trust you are at last satisfied.”
“There is no more to be said, my lord,” said old Mr Clapperly.
My lord picked up his hat. “In that case I will take my leave of you. I should like my house at the end of a week, if you please. Brent, you will make the arrangements necessary, and put my terms before Mr Rensley. I hope he will not find me ungenerous. Clevedale, your arm!”