This melancholy fact did not give Mr Carver any particular sorrow; he disliked that lady, and was especially glad that her deep cunning and underhand ways had frustrated themselves. In all probability, he thought, Mr Morton had in a fit of suspicion got hold of all his ready cash and securities, for the purpose of balking the fair lady whom he had made his heiress; but nevertheless the affair was puzzling, and Mr Carver hated to be puzzled.
Mr Carver stood in his office in Bedford Row, drumming his fingers on the grimy window-panes and softly whistling. Nothing was heard in the office but the scratch of the confidential clerk’s quill pen as he scribbled out a draft for his employer’s inspection.
‘This is a very queer case, Bates, very queer,’ said Mr Carver, addressing his clerk.
‘Yes, sir,’ replied Mr Bates, continuing the scratching. That gentleman possessed the instinct of always being able to divine what his chief was thinking of. Therefore, when Mr Bates said ‘Yes, sir,’ he knew that the Eastwood mystery had been alluded to.
‘I’d most cheerfully give—let me see, what would I give? Well, I wouldn’t mind paying down my cheque for’——
‘One thousand pounds, sir. No, sir; I don’t think you would.’
‘You’re a wonderful fellow, Bates,’ said his admiring master. ‘’Pon my honour, Bates, that’s the exact sum I was going to mention.’
‘It is strange, sir,’ said the imperturbable Bates, ‘that you and I always think the same things. I suppose it is being with you so long. Now, if I was to think you would give me a partnership, perhaps you would think the same thing too.’
‘Bates,’ said Mr Carver earnestly, never smiling, as was his wont, at his clerk’s quiet badinage, ‘if we unravel this mystery, as I hope we may, I’ll tell you what, Bates, don’t be surprised if I give you a partnership.’
‘Ah, sir, if we unravel it. Now, if we could only find’——