“Thank you, yes, if one could call it that. If you mean to invite me to spend the night here, which I trust may be the case, for I make it a rule never to travel at night, be the moon never so full, a little broth and perhaps a glass of burgundy (for I must strive to keep up my strength) sent up on a tray to my bedchamber would make a fitting end to a singularly displeasing day. I need not, I am persuaded, beg you to direct your housekeeper to satisfy herself that my bed is properly warmed. I dare say she is perfectly to be relied on. And I have Crawley with me, of course!”
Carlyon bowed gravely, and when the butler came into the room, repeated this request. “And be so good as to desire Mr. John to join me here,” he added.
John was not long in obeying the summons. He came in with his heavy tread, nodded curtly to Francis, and looked under his brows at Carlyon. “Well, Carlyon? You wish to speak to me?”
“Yes, I wish for your advice,” Carlyon replied. “I am satisfied that Cheviot and I are at one in desiring to restore that memorandum without involving either of our families in any scandal. His suggestion to me is that if I prefer not to entrust the matter to him you might be able to take it out of both our hands.”
“Restore the thing secretly, do you mean?” John said. “No, no, I can have nothing to do with such a course! It would be most improper in me, even if I knew how it might be achieved, which I am happy to say I do not!”
“What an excellent official you are, John!” murmured Francis.
Carlyon smiled slightly and drew the memorandum from his pocket and gave it to Francis. “Take it, then.”
“Ned!”
“Well, John, what would you have me do? I cannot carry it to Bathurst without divulging Bedlington’s part in the theft, and if you wish to run into that kind of scandal I can only say that I do not.”
John was silent, his face much troubled. Francis slid the folded sheets into his pocket.