“Nothing of the sort. The Clytie sails for Liverpool to-morrow. You and Leslie have taken passage—”
“Taken passage! Leslie!”
“Just so; everything has been arranged by—” He pauses, then says: “The ‘Organ-grinder.’”
“I repeat, it is impossible. Do you think I will leave the country while little Daisy’s fate remains—”
“Oh, stop! stop! stop! Man, are you determined to be an idiot? Will you hold your tongue and listen?”
“I will listen, yes; but—”
“But—bosh! Listen, then, and don’t interrupt.”
He lowers his voice, not from fear of an eavesdropper but because, having gained this point, his impatience begins to subside. And Alan listens, while for more than an hour the little lawyer talks and gesticulates, smiles and frowns. He listens intently, with growing interest, until at last Mr. Follingsbee leans back in his chair, seeming to relax every muscle in so doing, and says:
“Well, what do you think of it?”
Then Alan Warburton rises and extends his hand impulsively.