"Well, lately--since my son's death."
The lawyer opened a large diary, and proceeded to trace back each day
with his finger. It promised to be a question of time, this ascertaining
whether Mr. Glynde had called within the last week. It was marvellous how
well this man of deeds knew his clients. Mrs. Agar had never persevered
in any inquiry or project that required time all through her life. Mr.
Rigg, behind his disarming smile, could see as far into a crape veil as
any man.
"It must have been quite lately," said Mrs. Agar, leaning forward and
trying visibly to read the diary.
Mr. Rigg turned back a few pages, as if to go over the ground a second
time.
"Let me see!" he said leisurely. "What was the precise date of
the--er--sad event?"
"Last Tuesday, the fourteenth."
"To be sure," reflected Mr. Rigg, fixing his eyes sadly on an engraving
of London Bridge in the seventeenth century--a spot specially reserved
for the sadder moments of probate and other testamentary work.
Pages:
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159