Suspicious of Chase, though he couldn’t justify his suspicion. Tested
even by the severity of the solicitor’s standards, Chase’s behaviour and
conversation during luncheon were irreproachable. No sooner had he
entered the house than he began briskly talking of business. Yet Nutley
continued to eye him as one who beneath reasonable words and a bland
demeanour nourishes a secret and a joke; a silent and deeply-buried
understanding. He talked sedately enough, keeping to the subject even
with a certain rigour—acreage, rents, building possibilities; an
intelligent interest. Still, Nutley could have sworn there was irony in
it. Irony from Chase? Weedy, irritable little man, Chase. Not to-day,
though; not irritable to-day. In a good temper. (Ironical?) Playing the
host, sitting at the head of the refectory-table while Nutley sat at the
side. Naturally. Very cordial, very open-handed with the port. Quite at
home in the dining-room, ordering his dog to a corner; and in the
library too, with his pipes and tobacco strewn about. How long ago was
it, since Nutley was warning him not to slip on the polished boards?
Then a stroll round the garden, Chase with crumbs in his pocket for the
peacocks. When they saw him, two or three hopped majestically down from
the parapet, and came stalking towards him. Accustomed to crumbs
evidently. “You haven’t had them destroyed, then?” said Nutley, eyeing
them with mistrust and disapproval, and Chase laughed without answering.
Up the centre walk of the garden, and back by the herbaceous borders
along the walls: lilac, wistaria, patches of tulips, colonies of iris.
All the while Chase never deviated from the topic of selling. He pointed
out the house, folded in the hollow down the gentle slope of the garden.
“Not bad, for those who like it. Thirty thousand for the house, I think
you said?” “Then why the devil,” Nutley wanted to say, but refrained
from saying, “do you turn away people who come in a big car?” They
strolled down the slope, Chase breaking from the lilac bushes an armful
of the heavy plumes. He seemed to do it with an unknowing gesture, as
though he couldn’t keep his hands off flowers, and then to be
embarrassed on discovering in his arms the wealth that he had gathered.
It was as though he had kept an adequate guard over his tongue while
allowing his gestures to escape him. He took Nutley round to the
entrance, where the station cab was waiting, and unlocked the gate with
the key he carried in his pocket.
“You go back to Wolverhampton to-morrow?” said Mr. Nutley, preparing to
depart.
“That’s it,” replied Chase. Did he look sly, or didn’t he?
“All the arrangements will be made by the end of next week,” said Nutley
severely.
“That’s splendid!” replied Chase.
Nutley, as he was driven away, had a last glimpse of him, leaning still
against the gatepost, vaguely holding the lilac.