"Well, what do you mean? What do you think you saw?"
At that moment the door opened, and the housekeeper, who had hurried to meet them, appeared, and the lawyer did not listen to his stammering reply.
"Good-day, Mr. Bidlake," smiled the housekeeper. "I am glad you got here all right. Winkley had quite a difficulty in getting a chauffeur. I hope the one provided was satisfactory?"
"It's all right, Mrs. Winkley," and the lawyer was very patronising as he spoke; "the man brought us here safely. This," and he turned towards Dick, "is Mr. Richard Faversham, the new owner of—hem—Wendover Park, and your new—master."
"Indeed, sir," and Mrs. Winkley turned and looked nervously towards Dick, "I hope you'll be very—happy here, sir. I bid you welcome, sir."
Dick smiled with frank pleasure and shook hands—a familiarity which pleased the housekeeper, but not the lawyer.
"You got my letter, Mrs. Winkley?" Mr. Bidlake said hurriedly.
"Yes, sir, also your telephone message yesterday. Wendover Park is a lovely place, Mr. Faversham."
"It is, indeed, Mrs. Winkley. This Surrey air has given me an appetite, too."
Dick was so nervous that he hardly knew what he was saying. As he glanced around the spacious hall and tried to realise that it was his own, and as he called to mind that for the last mile he had been passing through his own property, it seemed to be too wonderful to be true.