Grey bowed. He wondered: "Has he already proposed, and is he going to talk to me about the will? This looks bad."
"You know what rogues there are in the world?"
"I should think I do. I have excellent cause to know of some kinds of rogues," Grey said. He thought: "This is becoming exciting—diverting."
The banker was in the most excellent spirits this morning. He felt like an unruly schoolboy when the holidays come. He was beyond the arm of physical punishment still, and the phase of mental torture in which he had existed for some time had yielded to his present jovial bravado. His old sense of the ridiculous had returned upon him and expelled self-consideration. While he felt profoundly the necessity for precautions, he was careless as to the means he used, and inclined to estimate nothing as more than a grim joke.
"You see," continued Sir William, "now that I am leaving, I am going to throw myself upon your indulgence and good-nature. You and I have a lot of waiting upon legal forms before we can act officially or authoritatively in the new positions we find ourselves."
"A lot of waiting upon legal forms," assented Grey; and added mentally, "Thank God!"
"But I suppose no one is going to say I am not the right man."
"You may build on that. I daresay"—with a bland humorous smile—"I daresay few have greater interest in disputing your identity (there can be no dispute of your descent) than the representatives of Miss Midharst; and I"—with a bow and deprecating wave of the long arms and white hands—"have no such intention."
"That is all right. Well, now I want to spend the most of that money you were so kind as to advance me on this place"—with a comprehensive sweep of the hand taking in the Castle and all the Island.
"Quite so. I understood that from you before. I do not think you could do better with the money, Sir William."