‘That is satisfactory,’ said Philip, relieved.
Wrentham looked at him critically, as if he had been a horse on which a heavy bet depended.
‘You are easily satisfied,’ he observed with a light laugh; but the sound was not pleasing to the ears of the listener. ‘Before being satisfied, I should like to have his answer to your note, for everything goes to the dogs if he declines to come down handsome.’
‘He will not refuse: he is pledged to it. But it is horrible to have to apply to him so soon.’
‘Ah, yes; it is nasty having to ask a favour. What do you mean to do if he should say “No” plump, or make some excuse?—which comes to the same thing, and is more unpleasant, because it kind of holds you under the obligation without granting you the favour.’
‘I don’t know,’ answered Philip rising and walking up and down the room uneasily.
‘Well, I have a notion,’ said Wrentham slowly, as he drew his hand over his chin; ‘but it seems scarcely worth mentioning, as it would take the form of advice, and you don’t care about my advice, or you wouldn’t be in this mess.... I beg your pardon: ’pon my honour, I didn’t mean to say anything that would hurt you.’
‘What were you going to say?’ was Philip’s abrupt response.
‘I was going to say that you ought to find out what Beecham has to do with him. Of course I have been pretty chummy with the old boy; but I never could get behind his eyes. You can learn what he is up to without any trouble.’
‘Me!—how?’