The Secret of the Tower | Page 9

account of his visit to Old Place.
"They appear to be pleasant people, very pleasant. I should like to
know them, if it was not desirable for me to live an entirely secluded
life." Mr. Saffron's speech was very distinct and clean cut, rather rapid,
high in tone but not disagreeable. "You make pure fun of this Miss
Wall, as you do of so many things, Hector, but--" he smiled up at
Beaumaroy--"inquisitiveness is not our favorite sin just now!"
"She's so indiscriminately inquisitive that it's a thousand to one against
her really finding out anything of importance, sir." Beaumaroy
sometimes addressed his employer as "Mr. Saffron," but much more
commonly he used the respectful "sir." "I think I'm equal to putting
Miss Delia Wall off."
"Still she noticed our weekly journeys!"
"Half Inkston goes to town every day, sir, and the rest three times,
twice, or once a week. I called her particular attention to the bag, and
told her it was for books from Mudie's!"
"Positive statements like that are a mistake." Mr. Saffron spoke with a
sudden sharpness, in pointed rebuke. "If I form a right idea of that
woman, she's quite capable of going to Mudie's to ask about us."
"By Jove, you're right, sir, and I was wrong. We'd better go and take
out a subscription tomorrow; she'll hardly go so far as to ask the date
we started it."
"Yes, let that be done. And, remember, no unnecessary talk." His tone
grew milder, as though he were mollified by Beaumaroy's ready
submission to his reproof. "We have some places to call at to-morrow,
have we?"
"They said they'd have some useful addresses ready for us, sir. I'm
afraid, though, that we're exhausting the most obvious resources."

"Still, I hope for a few more good consignments. I suppose you remain
confident that the Sergeant has no suspicions as regards that particular
aspect of the matter?"
"I'm sure of it, up to the present. Of course there might be an accident,
but with him and Mrs. Wiles both off the premises at night, it's hardly
likely; and I never let the bag out of my sight while it's in the room with
them, hardly out of my hand."
"I should like to trust him, but it's hardly fair to put such a strain on his
loyalty."
"Much safer not, sir, as long as we're not driven to it. After all though, I
believe the fellow is out to redeem his character, his isn't an
unblemished record."
"But the work, the physical labor, entailed on you, Hector!"
"Make yourself easy about that, sir. I'm as strong as a horse. The work's
good for me. Remember I've had four years' service."
Mr. Saffron smiled pensively. "It would have been funny if we'd met
over there! You and I!"
"It would, sir," laughed Beaumaroy. "But that could hardly have
happened without some very curious accident."
The old man harked back. "Yes, a few more good consignments, and
we can think in earnest of your start." He was warming his hands, thin
yellowish hands, at the fire now, and his gaze was directed into it.
Looking down on him, Beaumaroy allowed a smile to appear on his
lips, a queer smile, which seemed to be compounded of affection, pity,
and amusement.
"The difficulties there remain considerable for the present," he
remarked.
"They must be overcome." Once again the old man's voice became

sharp and even dictatorial.
"They shall be, sir, depend on it." Beaumaroy's air was suddenly
confident, almost braggart. Mr. Saffron nodded approvingly. "But,
anyhow, I can't very well start till favorable news comes from--"
"Hush!" There was a knock on the door.
"Mrs. Wiles, to lay the table, I suppose."
"Yes! Come in!" He added hastily to Beaumaroy, in an undertone. "Yes,
we must wait for that."
Mrs. Wiles entered as he spoke. She was a colorless, negative kind of a
woman, fair, fat, flabby, and forty or thereabouts. She had been the
ill-used slave of a local carpenter, now deceased by reason of
over-drinking; her nature was to be the slave of the nearest male
creature, not from affection (her affections were anemic) but rather, as
it seemed, from an instinctive desire to shuffle off from herself any
responsibility. But, at all events, she was entirely free from Miss Delia
Wall's proclivity.
Mr. Saffron rose. "I'll go and wash my hands. We'll dine just as we are,
Hector." Beaumaroy opened the door for him; he acknowledged the
attention with a little nod, and passed out to the staircase in the narrow
passage. Beaumaroy appeared to consider himself absolved from any
preparation, for he returned to the big chair and, sinking into it, lit
another cigarette. Meanwhile Mrs. Wiles laid the table, and presently
Sergeant Hooper appeared with a bottle