Fortunately the lawyer did not wait for an answer to his question.
“Maurice de Crespigny is a strange old man,” he said; “a very strange old man. I sometimes think there is a disappointment in store for Launcelot Darrell; and for his maiden aunts as well.”
“A disappointment!”
“Yes, I doubt very much if either the maiden ladies or their nephews will get Maurice de Crespigny’s fortune.”
“But to whom will he leave it, then?”
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders.
“It is not for me to answer that question, Miss Vincent,” he said. “I merely speculate upon the chances, in perfect ignorance as to facts. Were I Mr. de Crespigny’s legal adviser, I should have no right to say as much as this; but as I am not, I am free to discuss the business.”
Mr. Monckton and Eleanor were alone by this time, for Laura Mason had flitted on to the party in advance, and was talking to Launcelot Darrell. The lawyer’s face clouded as he watched his ward and the young man.
“You remember what I said to you yesterday, Miss Vincent?” he said, after a pause.
“Perfectly.”