“Won’t you come now? Please, Sir Edward! The inquest’s this afternoon and it would make all the difference if you could see John first.”
Kean’s face had begun to darken at her first words, but, at the mention of the inquest, it sharpened to a look almost of anxiety.
“The inquest? Already? I was afraid of that!”
“Sir Edward! They can’t arrest John!”
“I don’t know. It all depends on what the police have up their sleeve. I think you’re right; I’d better come up to the farm now.”
On their way they spoke little. Cynthia drove with all the recklessness of youth, and less than half an hour had passed before they turned into the little lane that led to the farm.
Fayre and Leslie were at the door to meet them. “It’s very good of you, sir,” said Leslie. “I seem to be giving you a fearful lot of trouble.”
He looked worn and anxious, but his eyes met Kean’s fearlessly and the lawyer, accustomed as he was to read faces, was both attracted and impressed by his manner.
He laid his hand on Leslie’s shoulder.
“Come inside,” he said. “And let’s talk things over. So you’ve got a finger in this pie, Hatter? You always were an old busybody!”