Aliette, her distraught mind clutching at the baronet's suggestions as a drowning woman clutches her rescuer, hardly listened to the conversation. Yet she was aware, dimly, that a mask had come over Sir Peter's face; that his concentration had switched, as only the legal brain can switch its concentration, without effort from her to the instrument.
Woman-like, the switch irritated her. "Yes," she heard. "Yes. I'd better see him myself.... No, I don't think a meeting would be advisable.... Tell him that at present there are certain difficulties, certain very serious difficulties, in the way.... No. He'd better stop with you. I shall be able to see him in about ten minutes--a quarter of an hour at the outside."
Sir Peter hung up the house-telephone, and turned to Aliette. The legal mask still covered his face. Behind it, he thought, "Poor little woman. This will cheer her up. I wonder if I ought to let that particular cat out of the bag yet awhile? Better not. Much better not. It might upset the whole apple-cart."
"Let me see," the mask changed, "what were we talking about? Oh, yes, the book, of course. Now, what have you got to say to my suggestion?"
"I think it splendid." Aliette's irritation subsided. "But--even if Mr. Flower consents to alter the book--there's always the will. We couldn't"--hopefully--"we couldn't alter that, too, could we?"
"Hardly." Now, feeling himself at the very crux of their interview, Sir Peter took up his paper-knife again. "Hardly. Quite apart from its being a felony, it would be robbing you of twenty thousand pounds."
"But that wouldn't matter a bit."
"Seriously?"
"Quite seriously, Sir Peter." Strange that she had never even considered that point!
"Even then"--still more taken aback, for female clients who disdained fortunes were even rarer than moralists in Norfolk Street, the senior partner in Wilberforce, Wilberforce & Cartwright tapped a frantic SOS on the desk-top--"even then, I'm afraid, we couldn't alter the will."