“Never mind, sir; you just tell him to trust me.”
“He’ll be at your throat if I don’t,” and the communication passed silently from Calthorpe to Gregory. “He says he will trust you a bit longer, but he wants to see things for himself.”
Silas appeared to be perplexed by his brother’s impatience, and by the danger of Calthorpe putting two and two together.
“Ask him if he will wait till to-morrow,” he said, at length.
This suggestion so enraged Gregory that he leapt at his brother and was only warded off by Calthorpe’s appeasing gesture. He fell back a pace, and framed a message with shaking hands.
“He says,” said Calthorpe, “that he will be damned if he waits another five minutes. And I am damned myself, Silas,” added the honest instrument, “if I understand a word of this, or if I will go on letting you make a cat’s-paw of me for your black tricks. Call Mrs. Dene, who perhaps knows what you are up to.”
Silas was outwardly calm, but alert. He must lose no time in breaking up the trio.
“I shall explain everything to you, Mr. Calthorpe,” he said earnestly, still standing with his arms flung wide across the door, “but he’s a dangerous man, my brother. He’s in a dangerous temper. To tell you the truth, Mr. Calthorpe,” he ran on with extreme glibness, “he suspects some one of tampering with his designs—but keep that for yourself. I’ve got the proofs inside my cottage, only I didn’t expect you so early. We must get him away. Tell him to go into his own place and change his clothes, and I’ll send his wife to him.”
“Well, there seems to be no harm in that,” said Calthorpe dubiously.
“Believe me, sir, I’m acting for the best.”