But Alfred Bolt was not a man to be caught out in the first over.
"I can only recommend you a closer attention to the Book," he replied. "Search its pages yourself, dear lady, and treasures of gladness shall be yours."
It was a nimble evasion and he could not resist a smile of self-satisfaction, but to avoid further interrogation on Biblical derivations he hastened to lead the conversation into safer alleys and ones more relative to the object of his visit.
"I am informed in the village that you are the fortunate possessor of a son."
"I have a son," Mrs. Barraclough admitted.
"A priceless gift, dear lady. I should like to shake him by the hand."
"Why?"
Really this woman was too trying and the directness of the question for an instant deprived Mr. Bolt of his sense of character. Before he had time to collect his thoughts he had rapped out the reply:
"Needn't jump down a man's throat like that."
His effort to recover and mask this piece of startled irritability with a vague platitude did not deceive his audience in the smallest degree. Doubt became conviction in Mrs. Barraclough's mind. She did not know in what way this man was connected with her son's affairs but none the less she was certain he represented a positive barrier between Anthony and success. To denounce him as a spy might, however, do more harm than good, accordingly she took up the bell and rang it, with the words: