“I knew that you would help me,” she said, fervently, holding out her hand to him across the table.
Dinner was over, and they were alone, with the grapes and peaches of the Priory hothouses, which were not even second to those of Cheriton, unheeded upon the table before them.
“Blake is in the house by this time, I dare say,” said Juanita presently. “Would you like to see him here, and shall I stay, or would you rather talk to him alone?”
“I had better take him in hand alone. It is always hard work to get straight answers out of that sort of man, and any cross current distracts him. His thoughts are always ready to go off at a tangent.”
“He knows all about the Squire’s children. He can give you any particulars you want about them.”
The butler came into the room five minutes afterwards with the coffee, and announced the bailiff’s arrival.
Juanita rose at once, and left her cousin to receive Jasper Blake alone.
He came into the room with rather a sheepish air. He was about sixty, young looking for his age, with a bald forehead, and stubbly iron grey hair, and a little bit of whisker on each sunburnt cheek. He had the horsey look still, though he had long ceased to have anything to do with horses beyond buying and selling cart-horses for the home farm, and occasionally exhibiting a prize animal in that line. He was a useful servant, and a thoroughly honest man, of the old-fashioned order.
“Mr. Blake, I want you to give me some information about old friends of yours. I have a little business in hand, which indirectly concerns the Strangway family, and I want to be quite clear in my own mind as to how many are left of them, and where they are to be found.”
The bailiff rubbed one of his stunted whiskers meditatively, and shook his head.