"Jerome will have been on the lookout for that. We must wait half an hour for the next. No one is likely to pick up our signals when a window happens to be lighted for twenty seconds at intervals of half an hour."
"A mere casual flash of light. I have let people know that I work late into the night."
De Rothan looked round for a chair, and found a rush-bottomed stool by one of the bookcases.
"So Master Benham has been here? Dissolute young dog."
Anthony Durrell lifted a scornful head.
"Dissolute?"
"One of the most profligate young rogues in the county. I hear all the gossip. There's hardly a pretty wench—well, you know, Durrell. Engaged to marry his cousin, too!"
"Poor young woman."
"She is no fool. Has a thousand a year of her own, and a mouth like a man-trap. She will lead Mr. Benham a godly, straight-up-and-down life. Meanwhile the youngster must not be allowed to hang round here."
Durrell picked up a book, glanced at it, and then threw it back upon the table. His austere face had a kind of hard pride.