the restaurant with a dazed air, she said softly: "I—I think I understand why Mr. Kearsage and Sir Ralph are so keen on removing him."
I said nothing.
That night Chelubai said to me with a thoughtful air, "Sir Reginald Blackthwaite seems very much struck by your sister."
"He does," said I.
He remained thoughtful; but I suspected nothing. The next afternoon he brought Sir Reginald round to the Temple to tea and bridge. It was the act of a Machiavel. I saw his purpose at once; he meant Sir Reginald to inspire into us such a loathing that we, too, should grow eager for his removal. Sir Reginald gave him his best help: it was an afternoon, and it was bridge.
That was only the beginning. The next fortnight was a nightmare of Sir Reginald. He came to tea and bridge with a firm regularity no snubs could break. He made us lunch with him, he made us dine with him, he even set about widening Angel's life by imparting to her his views on the fiscal question. He was our Old Man of the Sea; we began to feel that we were justified in taking any measures to be rid of him. He was sweeping me off my moral legs.
At last I weakened. I told Chelubai and Bottiger that if they could find a way of getting another five thousand pounds out of his removal for
