He nodded.
“Where?” she asked, in the same low tone. “You do not mean—here!”
He nodded again.
“At Claversham!” she exclaimed. “Then will he have to go, really?”
“I think he will,” Clode replied, a glow of triumph warming his dark face and kindling his eyes. “When Lord Dynmore left here yesterday he drove straight to Mr. Bonamy’s. You hardly believe it, do you? Well, it is true, for I had it from a sure source. And, that being so, I do not think Lindo will have much chance against such an alliance. It is not as if he had many friends here, or had got on well with the people.”
“The poor people like him,” she urged.
“Yes,” Clode answered sharply. “He has spent money among them. It was not his own, you see.”
It was a brutal thing to say, and she cast a glance of gentle reproof at him. She did not remonstrate, however, but, slightly changing the subject, asked, “But even if Mr. Lindo goes, are you sure of the living?”
“I think so,” he answered, smiling confidently down at her.
She looked puzzled. “How do you know?” she asked. “Did Lord Dynmore promise it to you?”