“I’ll take it to Mr. Boughton, ma’am,” said the man hesitatingly, for he was overcome by the visitor’s imperious manner; “he has been with Sir William just now, and will know if it is possible for any one to see him.”
“Who is Mr. Boughton?” she asked, almost contemptuously.
“He is Sir William’s solicitor.”
“Very well, that will do,” said Mrs. Baines, and she was shown into a large empty dining-room, that looked as grim and gloomy as the outside of the house had promised that all should be within. In a few minutes he returned.
“Mr. Boughton will be with you directly, ma’am,” he said respectfully.
In five minutes’ time there appeared a little dried-up man, bald and shrewd-looking, but with a kindly expression in his pinky face.
“Mr. Boughton,” Mrs. Baines said, “I am most glad to make your acquaintance;” and she shook hands. “Is it possible to see Sir William Rammage? He is my cousin, and we have known each other since we were children together.”
“Quite impossible, my dear madam, quite impossible,” the lawyer answered briskly.
“Is he very ill?”
“Very seriously ill.”