“Orders?” repeated Sir John, glancing up a little vacantly. “Though they be spavined ... spavined? ’Twon’t do—’tis a devilish awkward word—eh, Bob?”
“Yes, sir ... and your orders?”
“Aye, to be sure,” sighed Sir John, “you will pursue every inquiry and research in regard to Mr. James Sturton ... and inquire for me at the ‘Dering Arms’ about six o’clock this evening.”
“As Mr. Derwent, your honour?”
“As Mr. Derwent. And, by the way, Bob ... concerning the granddaughter of our ancient Mr. Dumbrell—her name is Ann, I think?”
“So I am give to understand, sir.”
“She is a fine, handsome creature, Robert?”
“Yes, your honour.”
“With a neat foot and a low, sweet voice.”
“Yes, your honour.”