CHAPTER XXXI
A DIFFICULT QUESTION
On the evening after Mrs. Chudleigh's visit, Challoner sent for Blake, who had just returned from an afternoon's shooting with Foster. The Colonel was sitting in a big leather chair near a good fire, but he had a heavy rug wrapped about him.
"Had you good sport?" he asked. "You must have found it very cold standing about the covers."
"We made a fair bag. The air was raw, but nothing unusual."
"I can't keep warm; I've been shivering all day. It looks as if I'd got a chill waiting outside Croxleigh gorse, but that is not what I want to talk about." His tone grew sharper. "It's curious that I wasn't told Mrs. Chudleigh came here yesterday; had you anything to do with keeping the information from me?"
"I'm afraid I must own up, sir. I thought it might disturb you, if you knew."
"Your intentions were, no doubt, good, but please remember in future that I can't permit things that concern me to be taken out of my hands. I believe I'm still capable of managing my affairs."
It struck Blake that his uncle looked ill, which might account for his asperity, and he made an apologetic answer.
"You may as well tell me what she said," Challoner resumed.