“I went. He made me an offer. When I heard the figure ... my word!”
Mr. Jeekes paused. Then added sadly:
“And I had meant to work for him to my dying day!”
They were in the billiard-room seated on the selfsame settee, Mary reflected, on which she and Robin had sat—how long ago it seemed, though only yesterday! Mary had carried the secretary off after luncheon in order to unfold to him a plan which she had been turning over in her mind ever since her conversation with the detective.
“And what are you going to do now, Mr. Jeekes?” she asked.
The little man pursed up his lips.
“Well,” he said, “I’ll have to get something else, I expect. I’m not expecting to find anything so good as I had with Mr. Parrish. And things are pretty crowded in the City, Miss Trevert, what with all the boys back from the war, God bless ’em, and glad we are to see ’em, I’m sure. I hope you’ll realize, Miss Trevert, that anything I can do to help to put Mr. Parrish’s affairs straight....”
“I was just about to say,” Mary broke in, “that I hope you will not contemplate any change, Mr. Jeekes. You know more about Mr. Parrish’s affairs than anybody else, and I shall be very glad if you will stay on and help me. You know I have been left sole executrix....”
“Miss Trevert,”—the little man stammered in his embarrassment,—“this is handsome of you. I surely thought you would have wished to make your own arrangements, appoint your own secretaries....”
Mr. Jeekes broke off and looked at her, blinking hard.