“Well, if you really don’t know her, I need not take up any more of your time,” he remarked, rising.
“I assure you, Mr Hugh, as the trusted adviser of your family, it would give me the utmost pleasure to assist you if I could, but her existence is quite unknown to me,” protested the old man. “Was she a friend of yours, may I ask?” he added, with a mischievous twinkle in his dim eye.
“Well, yes, Graham. I have the pleasure of the lady’s acquaintance.”
“Ah, I thought so. Young men are not so eager about a woman’s antecedents unless they love her.”
“Form your own conclusions, Graham. I’ve an appointment, so good-day.”
Laughing gayly, he departed, the old man bowing him out obsequiously.
After he had gone, the occupant of the dingy chamber stood for a long time before the fire cleaning his pince-nez upon his silk handkerchief, thinking over the errands of his two clients—so strangely dissimilar, yet so closely allied.