"Yes, but in these days it is not easy to get people one can trust. Mr. Fern will not find any one to take your place in a moment. And just now, when he evidently has a great deal of trouble on his mind, it will be unpleasant to make a change."
Hannibal was completely deceived by the apparently honest character of these observations. He could not resist the temptation to boast a little, that peculiar trait of a menial.
"I know all about Mr. Fern's affairs," he agreed. "Both here and at the house. He would not trust the next man as he has me."
Mr. Weil nodded wisely.
"I see, I see," he answered. "You know then what has annoyed him of late—that which has puzzled all the rest of us so much. You know, but having the knowledge in a sort of confidential capacity, you would, of course, have no right to reveal it."
Hannibal straightened himself up in an exasperating way.
"You will not find what troubles Mr. Fern," he said, loftily. "And now, may I ask you something. Do you expect to marry his eldest daughter?"
An inclination to kick the fellow for his impudence came so strong upon Mr. Weil that it required all of his powers to suppress the sentiment. But through his indignation there struggled his old admiration for this elegant physical specimen. He wished he could get a statue modeled from him, before the original left the country.
"That is a delicate question," he managed to say.
"I know it," replied Hannibal. "But I have observed some things which may have escaped you. Shall I tell you what I mean?"