Garstin uttered the thrush’s song through half-closed lips.
“That’s it! Well, you can bring them along whenever you like.”
“Thank you. They may not be art experts, but they, or one of them, may possibly be useful for my purpose.”
“Right you are! So you know something definite about the fellow?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t bother yourself! I don’t want to know what it is,” snapped out Garstin abruptly.
Sir Seymour smiled, and it was almost what Lady Sellingworth called his “beaming” smile. He got up and held out his hand.
“Thank you,” he said.
Garstin gave him a strong grip.
“Glad I’ve met you!” he said. “Beryl’s done me a good turn.”