§ 3
“You got your rights like anybody, m’lady,” said Unwin.
It was that phrase put it into Lady Charlotte’s head to consult her solicitor. He opened new vistas to her imagination.
Lady Charlotte’s solicitor was a lean, long, faded blond of forty-five or so. He was the descendant of five generations of Lincoln’s Inn solicitors, a Low Churchman, a man of notoriously pure life, and very artful indeed. He talked in a thin, high tenor voice, and was given to nibbling his thumbnail and wincing with his eyes as he talked. His thumbnail produced gaps of indistinctness in his speech.
“Powers of a guardian, m’lady. Defends upon whafower want exercise over thinfant.”
“I do wish you’d keep your thumb out of your mouth,” said Lady Charlotte.
“Sorry,” said Mr. Grimes, wincing and trying painfully to rearrange his arm. “Still, I’d like to know—position.”
“There are three other guardians.”
“Generous allowance,” said Mr. Grimes. “Do you all act?”
“One of us is lost in the Wilds of Africa. The others I want to consult you about. They do not seem to me to be fit and proper persons to be entrusted with the care of young children, and they do not seem disposed to afford me a proper share in the direction of affairs.”