Mr. Tertius gravely shook his head.
“Mr. Barthorpe Herapath may matter a great deal, my dear,” he remarked. “He is a very forceful person. I do not know what provision my poor friend may have made, but Barthorpe, you will remember, is his nephew, and, I believe, his only male relative. And in that case——”
Mr. Tertius was just then interrupted by the entrance of a footman who came in and looked inquiringly at Peggie.
“There’s a taxi-cab driver at the door, miss,” he announced. “He says he would like to speak to some one about the news in the paper about—about the master, miss.”
Peggie looked at Mr. Tertius. And Mr. Tertius quickly made a sign to the footman.
“Bring the man in at once,” he commanded. And, as if to lose no time, he followed the footman into the hall, and at once returned, conducting a young man who carried a copy of the Argus in his hand. “Yes?” he said, closing the door behind them and motioning the man to a seat. “You wish to tell us something! This lady is Miss Wynne—Mr. Herapath’s niece. You can tell us anything you think of importance. Do you know anything, then?”
The taxi-cab driver lifted the Argus.
“This here newspaper, sir,” he answered. “I’ve just been reading of it—about Mr. Herapath, sir.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Tertius gently. “Yes?”
“Well, sir—strikes me as how I drove him, sir, this morning,” answered the driver. “Gentleman of his appearance, anyway, sir—that’s a fact!”