Ventnor himself used when he wished to imply that though he
didn't as a fact do business, he probably soon would. He knew therefore
that the answer was a true one. And non-plussed, he hazarded:
"Oh! I thought you did, in regard to a Mrs. Larne."
This time he had certainly drawn blood of sorts, for down came Scriven's
eyebrows, and he said:
"Mrs. Larne--we know a Mrs. Larne, but not in that connection. Why?"
"Oh! Young Pillin told me--"
"Young Pillin? Why, it's his---!" A little pause, and then: "Old Mr.
Heythorp's solicitors are Crow & Donkin, I believe."
Mr. Ventnor held out his hand. "Yes, yes," he said; "goodbye. Glad to
have got that matter settled up," and out he went, and down the street,
important, smiling. By George! He had got it! "It's his father"--Scriven
had been going to say. What a plant! Exactly! Oh! neat! Old Pillin had
made the settlement direct; and the solicitors were in the dark; that
disposed of his difficulty about them. No money had passed between old
Pillin and old Heythorp not a penny. Oh! neat! But not neat enough for
Charles Ventnor, who had that nose for rats. Then his smile died,
and with a little chill he perceived that it was all based on
supposition--not quite good enough to go on! What then? Somehow he
must see this Mrs.
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