Part 79 (1/2)
Eyes glittering, Harry hauled in a breath then expelled it irritably.
Propping himself on one arm, he raked his hair out of his eyes.
”What the devil's the time?”
”Nine,” Dawlish replied, already at the wardrobe.
”But you've got visitors.”
”At nine?” Harry turned over and sat up. ”Salter--and he's brought that agent of the missus's-- Mr Mabberly.”
Harry blinked. Draping his arms over his knees, he stared at Dawlish.
”I haven't married the d.a.m.ned woman yet.”
”Just getting in some practice, like.” Dawlish turned from the robe with a grey coat over his arm.
”This do?”
Ten minutes later, Harry descended the narrow staircase, wondering if Lucinda would prefer a grander place when they stayed in town. He hoped she wouldn't--he'd been renting these rooms for the past ten years; they felt comfortable, like a well-worn coat.
He opened the door to his study and beheld his visitors, Salter standing by the desk, Mabberly, looking thoroughly uncomfortable, perched on the chair before it.
At sight of him, Mabbedy rose.
”Good morning, Mabberly.” Harry nodded and shut the door.
”Salter.”
Salter returned his nod but refrained from comment, his lips compressed as if holding the words back.
Stiff as a poker, Mr Mabberly inclined his head fractionally.
”Mr Lester. I hope you'll forgive this intrusion but this gentleman--' he glanced at Salter '--is most insistent that I provide answers to questions regarding Mrs Babbacombe's affairs that I can only describe as highly confidential.” Decidedly prim, Mr Mabberly brought his gaze back to Harry's face.
”He tells me he's working for you.”
”Indeed.” Harry waved Mr Mabberly back to his chair and took his own behind the desk.
”I'm afraid we are in pressing need of the information Mr Salter has requested of you, in a matter pertaining to Mrs Babbaeombe's safety.” As Harry had expected, the mention of Lucinda's safety stopped Mr Mabberly in his tracks.
”That is,” Harry smoothly continued, 'a.s.suming you do, in fact, know the answers? ”
Mr Mabberly s.h.i.+fted, eyeing Harry somewhat warily. ”As it happens, I do--it's necessary for one in my position, acting as the company's representative, to be absolutely certain just whose interests I'm representing.”
He shot a glance at Salter, then brought his gaze back to Harry.
”But you mentioned Mrs Babbacombe's safety.
How can the information you requested be important? ” Succinctly, Harry told him, detailing no more than the bare bones of the presumptive plot; Mr Mabberly was businessman enough to readily follow their hypothesis.