"Can I see Mr. Knivett?" asked Sir William.
"No, that you can't," returned the gentleman-clerk. "Charles Seaton of the Hill has just fetched him out in a desperate hurry. Knivett, going out to the gig, put in his head to tell me old Seaton was taken ill. Wants his will altered, I suppose."
Sir William considered. "Tell Mr. Knivett, then, that I will be here at about eleven o'clock to-morrow. I wish to see him particularly."
"All right," said Mr. Dobie.
Sir William was turning away, when his eyes fell on George North, who had then risen preparatory to departure. He held out his hand cordially, and George North met it. A week or two previously, just before Sir Richard's death, it chanced that they had met at a country inn, and were detained there part of a day by a prolonged storm of rain and thunder. Each had liked the other, and quick acquaintanceship had been formed.
"Are you still at Greylands, Mr. North?"
"Yes."
"Well, do not forget that I shall be very glad to see you. Come over at any time."
"Thank you," replied George.
The new baronet went out. Mr. Dobie, witnessing all this, began to fancy that the gentleman might be somebody worth being civil to.