“In six months everything will be too late. And now, what about the other matter? Is that all right?”
Once more the captain groaned. “I can say nothing about it yet. She knows my wishes, but as Robert Ratman she will not hear a word of it. As Roger Ingleton, the elder, you may depend on it the matter will take another view. All depends on your success there. When that’s achieved, the rest will come if you give her time.”
Mr Ratman sneered.
“You are a glib talker, Oliphant. I admire you. Now listen. You want credit, and you know how to buy it. One way or another, this business must come to an end. I’ll take new bills with interest at three months. By that time everything must be square and smooth; otherwise you’ll be sorry you and your children were born, my boy. Order dinner. I’m going back by the six train. Pass me that paper, and don’t disturb me any more by your talking.”
As Mr Ratman, very well satisfied with his day’s business, strolled serenely back through the park that afternoon, he was surprised to hear light footsteps behind him, and, on turning, to discover that his pursuer, of all people, was Miss Rosalind Oliphant.
“Hullo!” said he, “this is flattering, with a vengeance.”
“Mr Ratman, I want to speak to you, please,” said Rosalind, very pale and nervous.
“Excuse me,” said he, “that’s not my name; my name is Roger Ingleton. What’s the matter?”
“It’s about my father. Have you seen him?”
“Just left the dear man.”