CHAPTER II
"Here is a letter from Morris Thornton," said Silwood, shooting a keen, swift glance at his partner, but it escaped the other's notice.
Francis Eversleigh's thoughts, in fact, played pleasantly around his son Gilbert and Kitty Thornton, or if he had seen that look it might have startled him out of the complacent musings which forecast a fortunate ending only.
"Yes," he said, rather apathetically. For though the mention of the name of Kitty's father chimed in agreeably with his reflections, the firm received communications frequently from Morris Thornton—which was only natural, as he was by far the most important client it possessed, and therefore the arrival of this particular letter excited no special interest in his breast. "Is it more money for investment?" he inquired, tranquilly.
But Silwood did not answer the question. Instead of doing so, he scanned the letter with those little, sharp eyes of his, while his smooth, pallid face was as void of expression as a block of stone.
"What does Morris say?" asked Eversleigh, after a pause.
"Did you see Miss Kitty this morning?" Silwood queried, ignoring the other's words; moreover, he spoke in such a tone as was significant of the relations between the two partners—it suggested the idea that he was accustomed to direct Eversleigh, and not to be directed by him.
"Certainly, I saw her this morning," replied Eversleigh, beginning to wonder a little.
"Did she have nothing to tell you about her father?"