“Oh, yes, I daresay, I daresay. Now then, what are your propositions?”
“Your propositions?” echoed Henry.
And a fourth time Doctor Hilary repeated them.
At the end of a lengthy interview, James Glieve opened the door of his sanctum to show Doctor Hilary out.
“You might give my kindest remembrances—” he stopped. “Bless my soul, I was just going to send my remembrances to old Nick, and we’ve been spending the last hour settling up his will. Where’s my memory going! I shall probably run down in a few days, and go through matters with you on the spot. A—er, a melancholy pleasure to see the old place again. What?”
Henry Parsons, within the room, lost this last speech; therefore it found no echo.
When Antony entered the private sanctum of James Glieve, he saw a stout red-faced man, with a suspicion of side whiskers and a slight appearance of ferocity, seated at a desk. On his right, and insignificant by comparison, was a small grey-haired and rather dried-up man.
“Mr. Antony Gray?” queried the red-faced man, looking at Antony over his spectacles.
Antony bowed.
“You come in answer to our communication regarding the will of the—er, late Mr. Nicholas Danver?” asked James Glieve.