“I’ll admit that you wouldn’t be idle here.”
“Idle? No. How much time should I have for research work?”
Pawley sighed, too well bred to express his disappointment. He had been a fool to suppose that a young man of Grimshaw’s distinction would care to kick against the pricks in an obscure village. Obviously Grimshaw had “nosed about” to some purpose. He had read the writing on the whitewashed walls. He might have wandered into the pretty churchyard and noticed an undue proportion of tiny graves! But to a fighter that might be an incentive, a provocation.
Possibly Grimshaw’s sharp ears caught the attenuated sigh. Pawley looked up to find keenly penetrative eyes on his.
“If, Dr. Pawley, if I tackle this job, what backing shall I have? Is Lady Selina likely to stand by?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“That means she won’t. Brian Chandos used to be a good sort. Will he help or hinder?”
Pawley answered evasively:
“Brian is devoted to his mother. And he’s dependent upon her.”
“All is said. What about the daughter?”