“Pardon me, General, I did not mean—”
The lawyer’s apology was interrupted by the re-entrance of his clerk carrying a large volume, on whose covering of vellum were the words “Call Book.”
Mr Lawson took hold of the book, glad to escape from further explanation.
“There it is,” said he, after turning over a number of pages. “Two entries of different dates, both relating to your son. The first on the 4th day of April; the other on the 6th. Shall I read them, General, or will you look at them yourself?”
“Read them to me.”
The solicitor, readjusting his spectacles, read aloud—
“April 4th, half-past 11 a.m.—Called at office, Mr Henry Harding, son of General Harding, of Beechwood Park, county Bucks. Business—to ask if any communication had been received from his father intended for self. Answer—None received.”
“April 6th, half-past 11 a.m.—Called again, Mr Henry Harding. Same question put, same answer given, as on April 4th. Young gentleman said nothing, but went away dissatisfied.”
“Of course, General,” said the lawyer apologetically, “we are obliged to make these remarks in the way of our profession. Are these the only entries, Mr Jennings—I mean that have reference to Mr Henry Harding?”
“There are no others in the book, sir—except one made six months ago, relating to a letter received from Mr Harding’s father. Shall I find it, sir?”