“Let me assure you, sir,” interposed the Captain calmly, “that there is not the slightest danger of such a thing! Nor does Master Henry’s attempt to conjure up bogeys in any way impress me.”
“What are he and Coate doing?” demanded the Squire.
“I’m not in a position to tell you that, though I have some inklings. Henry, I think, is nothing more than a tool, and I have every expectation of being able to bring him off without public scandal.”
The Squire’s eyes narrowed. “You know more than you mean to tell me, eh? Coate will drag Henry into it, if there’s a discovery.”
“Not if his mouth is shut, sir.”
“Very likely! And, pray, how is that to be achieved?”
“I think, sir,” replied John, smiling down at him, “that that is something you had best leave to me.”
One corner of the Squire’s mouth lifted a little. “You do, do you? Know how to do the trick?”
“Yes,” John said.
The deep, imperturbable voice had its effect. The Squire sighed, and seemed to relax. “I daresay you’ll handle it,” he said. “I’ve shot my bolt. But I’ve made all safe for Nell. If Henry’s disgraced us, she wouldn’t have married you, you know. Forced you into this, of course. If you disliked it—”