To the young Scotsman's surprise, the Duke showed signs for a moment of taking the light-spoken banter amiss. Beaumanoir flushed, and muttered something inarticulate, but pulled himself together and diverted their talk into a fresh channel, clumsily enough.
"Don't gas about me, old chap," he said. "Tell me of yourself. Is the world using you better than formerly?"
"About the same," Forsyth replied with a shrug. "They gave me a twenty-pound rise last year, so my pay as a third-grade clerk in the Foreign Office is now the princely sum of £230 per annum. Not a brilliant prospect. When I'm a worn-out old buffer of sixty I shall be able to retire on a pension about equal to my present pay."
"Then look here, Alec; chuck the public service and come to me," said the Duke, eagerly. "I'll give you eight hundred a year to begin with, and rises up to two thousand; and you can have the dower-house at Prior's Tarrant to live in. Call yourself private secretary, bailiff, anything you please—only come. The fact is—well, I've been a bit shaken by—by what I've gone through. I want someone near me who's more than a mere hireling."
It was Forsyth's turn to flush now, but with pleasure at the offer made to him. He accepted it in a few simple words, and the Duke rose and paid his score.
"Come with me to Pattisons'," he said. "Then we'll go on to Piccadilly and take possession."
The business at the lawyers', which consisted of little more than arranging future meetings, was soon finished, and the Duke and his new secretary took a fresh cab to the West End. As they bowled along Beaumanoir inquired further about his cousin Sybil, whom, owing to his absence in India and more latterly to his estrangement from his relations, he had never met. Forsyth imparted the information that for the last six months, since she "came out," she had virtually ruled the late Duke's household.
"But she can be little more than a child," Beaumanoir protested. "Anyhow, I can't keep a cousin of eighteen on as my housekeeper without setting Mrs. Grundy's tongue wagging. The question arises what to do with her. Old Pattison tells me she is well provided for, but I don't like telling her to clear out if it does not occur to her to go. What sort is she, Alec?"
"That's rather a stiff question to put to me," Forsyth replied, as though to himself. "I had better make my confession first as last," he went on hurriedly. "You are her nearest relative now, and the head of her family. Ever since I first saw Sybil Hanbury the dearest wish of my heart has been to make her my wife, but without prospects of any kind I couldn't very well ask her. There you have it, my noble patron, in a nutshell."
Beaumanoir patted his friend's knee affectionately.