"Might I ask why, Mr. Nevens?" said he.
The man put his hand behind his ear, forming a sort of cup; he screwed his face into an expression of great interest and squeaked:
"Hey? I am hard of hearing."
"It happens," said Weir to the girl, "that I know something of the operations of this man, and I thought that Mr. Stevens and myself might be of some help to you."
"The matter that brings Mademoiselle Lafargue here," said Anthony, "seems to be a paper of her father's."
"I know its nature," said Weir. "After you had stepped out into the passage up-stairs, the Bulfinches talked quite openly of it."
While they were speaking the broker kept his hand cupped behind his ear, while his eyes searched their faces like those of some sly little animal.
"Eh?" said he. "What do you say? Speak up. My hearing is not of the best."
"If you'll permit me," said Weir to the girl, "I can probably save your father a journey here and the exasperation he'd be sure to feel in dealing with a man like this." Without waiting for a reply he turned to Nevens. "Now, sir," he said, "a word with you."
Nevens seemed to get Weir's purpose,—perhaps it was from his attitude,—and he began to gesticulate excitedly.