Читать книгу Fire in the Thatch - Edith Caroline Rivett - Страница 15

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“Seems a friendly sort of fellow,” observed Colonel St Cyres to his daughter as they walked slowly up the field path which led from Hinton Mallory to Manor Thatch, and Anne nodded.

“Oh, yes: he’s friendly enough—but I don’t like him. I know it’s a mistake to say you can judge people at sight, but even if I hadn’t taken exception to the way he talks to June, I should still have said to myself that Mr. Thomas Gressingham was a man I shouldn’t trust further than I could see him. Who is his friend, Daddy?—I seem to have heard his name, somehow.”

“Yes. Howard Brendon comes of an old legal family. His father was a well-known solicitor in Exeter. This man has bought a place in North Devon, near Dulverton. He’s made a considerable name as an antiquarian, and his name was in the papers a year or two back when he fought an action over a right-of-way through his property. He won his action, but at the cost of alienating himself from all his neighbours. I believe he’s very much disliked, but he’s a wealthy man and of some consequence amongst the archaeologists of the county. Probably Gressingham is his broker.”

“Wait a minute—didn’t Mr. Brendon get married a year or so back—he married a young wife, rather a lovely girl. Now I remember. I saw the pictures of the wedding in the papers. I don’t remember who she was—not a Devonshire girl, anyway.”

“Maybe. You’ve a better memory than I have, Anne. Somehow I didn’t like the combination of Gressingham and Brendon together down here: suggested to my mind that they’re up to something. Gressingham’s got this idea of acquiring a country property—and Brendon must have known all about the folk in these parts at one time. His father would have acted for many of them.”

“Anyway, Mr. Brendon doesn’t seem to be encouraging his friend’s idea of a city man turning farmer.”

“Quite true,” agreed the Colonel, “but you were talking just now of judging people at sight, Anne. Admittedly I don’t care for Gressingham—he’s not in my line of country at all, and between you and me I’ve only one name for him—a bounder—but I liked Brendon even less. I wouldn’t trust that man a yard. He’s like... by gad, Anne, he’s like a ferret. He’d bite you if he got the chance. Never saw a harder face in my life—a grim face without any humanity in it—though he looks a gentleman and speaks like one.”

“I didn’t mind him so much,” replied Anne. “I felt I knew where I was with him. He’s as hard as nails and made no attempt to pretend he liked us. Quite obviously he didn’t—but never mind that. However, it doesn’t matter about him, he’s not likely to come over here very often. When you see June, Daddy, just say something pleasant about Mr. Gressingham, and tell her you’ve asked him to shoot. I’m doing my best to get her to be more friendly: if I can only make friends with her a bit things will be easier. I admit I don’t like her, but I’m sorry for her—and I do think a lot about Denis.”

“I can’t think why the poor chap ever married a girl like that,” said St Cyres, and Anne retorted:

“It’s no use going back to that each time, Daddy. He did marry her, and he’s had the rottenest luck in getting taken prisoner. I want to do what I can for Denis, and so do you, and that’s why we’ve got to go on trying with June.”

“Quite right, my dear,” said Colonel St Cyres humbly, “but I’m sorry she has to have friends like Mr. Gressingham down here.”