"Hardly. Will you have a drink, my dear fellow? You are looking seedy."
A stiff brandy-and-soda pulled Victor Nevill together, and for nearly an hour the two men spoke in low and serious tones, occasionally referring to the heap of papers.
"Not the slightest clew," said Stephen Foster. "It is absurd to suspect Raper of collusion with the thieves—his only fault was carelessness. Leave the affair to the police. I shan't give it another thought."
"That's easier said than done," Nevill replied. He rose and put on his hat. "I must be off now. Oh, about the other matter—have you said anything further to your daughter?"
"Not a word."
"She still defies you?"
"She refuses to give the fellow up." Stephen Foster sighed. "The girl has lots of spirit."
"You won't let her have her own way?"
"Not if I can prevent it."
"Prevent it?" echoed Nevill, sneeringly. "What measures will you take?"