“Crighton, we will conduct it in town,” Stoneridge said, rising from his desk to indicate the interview was over. “A letter to me requesting a meeting will be sufficient. I anticipate being in London quite frequently, so there will be no difficulty in dealing with these matters in your own offices.” Lawyer Crighton looked uncomfortable. “I trust I haven’t intruded, my lord. But it’s always been my custom to make these quarterly visits in person … to pay my respects …” “No … no.” Sylvester waved ...him impatiently into silence. “I appreciate the courtesy, but it will not be necessary to repeat it, you understand.” “Yes, my lord … of course, my lord,” the lawyer muttered unhappily as the earl pulled the bell rope. “Have Mr. Crighton’s gig brought around, Foster,” the earl instructed when the butler appeared. So there was to be no invitation to dinner, and he’d been offered only a glass of claret—a glass, moreover, that had not been refilled. Circumstances had certainly changed at Stone ridge Manor, and not for the better, the disgruntled lawyer decided, picking up his hat and gloves from the table in the hall.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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