"Would—would you—could you go with me?" stammered Dick.
"I was on the point of suggesting it myself, my dear sir. Yes, I could go to-morrow morning."
"Are there any servants there, or is the house empty?" asked Dick. Again he had a sense of unreality.
"Most of the servants are there," replied the lawyer. "I thought it best to keep them. I am not sure about a chauffeur, though. I have an idea I discharged him. But it can easily be managed. The housekeeper whom your uncle engaged on your aunt's death is there, and she, it appears, has a husband. Rather a capable man. He can get a chauffeur. I'll ring up right away, and give instructions. You don't mind, do you?"
"It's awfully good of you," Dick assured him. "I shall feel lost without you."
At half-past one Dick accompanied Mr. Bidlake to his club for lunch, attired in a not at all badly fitting ready-made suit of clothes, which Mr. Hucknell had secured for him, and spent the afternoon with the lawyer discussing the new situation.
"Nine-thirty-five Victoria," said Mr. Bidlake to him as he left him that night.
"I'll be there."
Dick went to his hotel like a man in a dream. Even yet everything was unreal to him. He had received assurances from one of the most trustworthy and respectable lawyers in London that his position was absolutely safe, and yet he felt no firm foundation under his feet.
"I expect it's because I've seen nothing yet," he reflected. "When I go down to-morrow and get installed as the owner of everything, I shall see things in a new light."