Once more the solicitor entertained no very pleasant conjectures as to the purpose of his visitors, whom he knew to be close personal friends of Maxwell Fair’s. The whole departure was as upsetting as it was sudden.
“Rather a beastly time to intrude upon you, Mr. Marshall,” said Travers apologetically as they seated themselves in Marshall’s library.
“And on the beastliest sort of business,” put in Allyne.
Mr. Marshall, finding nothing particular to say, remained silent.
“We were asked to come here this evening by Mr. Maxwell Fair,” said Travers, explaining. “He will be here at ten o’clock.”
“Yes?” softly remarked the imperturbable lawyer; “then we will wait.”
“The deuce you say,” protested Allyne in spite of the signal from Travers. “Why, we came ahead of him expressly.”
“Shut up, Allyne,” broke in Travers. “Fair knows that we are here, Mr. Marshall—in fact, we came rather at his suggestion. He gave us full permission to speak to you.”
“I shall, of course, be very glad to hear anything that you may deem it desirable to tell me. Pray proceed,” said Marshall not very eagerly.
“Well, then, sir, it is with the utmost sorrow that we have to tell you that we are convinced poor Fair has become suddenly insane on a certain dreadful subject,” went on Travers, irritated by Marshall’s manner.