'You want to tell the banker that Mr. Edmund Gray has returned you the transfers.—Yes.—Thank you. I thought you could not forget that client, of all others.'
He leaned back smiling—his expression no longer anxious, but pleased and happy. The change transformed him. He was not Mr. Dering, but another.
'Go on, child.'
'The rooms of Gray's Inn are quiet all day long. It is a peaceful place for study, is it not? You sit there, your books before you, the world forgotten.'
'Quite forgotten,' said Mr. Dering.
'No—no,' cried Checkley, springing to his feet. 'I won't have it done. I——'
'Sit down.' George pushed him back into his chair. 'Another word, and you leave the room.'
'It is a peaceful day,' Elsie continued, 'that you pass—for the most part alone—you with your books. Sometimes you come here to call upon your old friend and solicitor, Mr. Dering.'
'Sometimes,' he replied. 'We are very old friends. Though his views are narrow.—Where is he?' He looked about the room. 'You are all waiting to see him? He will be here directly. He is always here about this time.'
'Yes, directly. You remember what I said to you on Sunday concerning certain transactions? I told you how important it was to have the exact truth about them.'