“What do you think about your father?” he asked.
“I’m anxious. Of course, he made light of the matter, and, so far as I know, he’s never been troubled in this way before, but I didn’t like his look.”
“It struck me as significant that he’d seen a doctor,” Osborne remarked. “The bottle proves that. From the careful directions about the dose it must have been made up from a prescription. Anyway, he’s been overdoing it lately, and perhaps you had better go along and see what he’s about. If he’s attending to any business, make him stop and bring him down.”
Aynsley entered the writing-room and left it in a few minutes, rudely dismissed. Coming down, he made an excuse for taking Ruth into the hall.
“I know you’ll do me a favor,” he begged.
“Of course. I suppose it concerns your father?”
Aynsley nodded.
“He’s writing letters, and I’m afraid it will do him harm. He looks far from fit, but he’s in a most contrary mood, and ordered me out when I hinted that he’d better stop. Knowing what he’s capable of, I thought I’d better go.”
He spoke lightly, but Ruth saw the uneasiness he wished to conceal.
“Do you think I could persuade him?”