“I am much obliged. I have no doubt whatever that everything is in perfect order. To prove that conviction, I shall not trouble to look at these accounts and memoranda.”
“As you please, Sir Geoffrey.”
Lady Pomfret observed lightly but meaningly:
“Sir Geoffrey, Ben is well aware that for many years you have acted as his honorary land agent.”
The Squire frowned. He was not, as yet, well aware of this fact. However, under the circumstances he allowed the remark, not a tactful one, to pass. Fishpingle said quietly:
“Thank you, my lady.”
Sir Geoffrey pushed aside the books, clearing his desk and his throat at the same moment. Then he looked at his wife.
“I take it, my dear Mary, that you have done—ahem!—as I asked you.”
Lady Pomfret displayed slight nervousness. Her voice, as she replied, was not quite under control. But Fishpingle, not the Squire, noticed this. And he saw, also, that her fingers interlaced upon her lap were trembling.
“I have done my best, Geoffrey. I think that Ben does, perhaps, have a glimpse of himself as I see him.” She flashed a glance at Fishpingle. “Do you, Ben?”