“Mr. Cossey’s father has had a stroke of paralysis and he has gone up to London to look after him.”
“Oh,” said Mr. Quest. “Well, if the old gentleman dies, your friend will be one of the wealthiest men in England.”
“Well, so much the better for him. I am sure money is a great blessing. It protects one from so much.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Quest with emphasis, “so much the better for him, and all connected with him. Why have you been crying? Because Cossey has gone away—or have you quarrelled with him?”
“How do you know that I have been crying? If I have, it’s my affair. At any rate my tears are my own.”
“Certainly, they are—I do not wish to interfere with your crying—cry when you like. It will be lucky for Cossey if that old father of his dies just now, because he wants money.”
“What does he want money for?”
“Because he has undertaken to pay off the mortgages on the Castle estates.”
“Why has he done that, as an investment?”
“No, it is a rotten investment. I believe that he has done it because he is in love with Miss de la Molle, and is naturally anxious to ingratiate himself with her. Don’t you know that? I thought perhaps that was what you had been crying about?”