In that quiet and yellow backwater, the Old Jewry, the offices of Kingson, Cuthcott and Forsyte were tribally invaded at four o’clock next day.
‘What’s become of old Gradman, Mr Forsyte?’ Dinny heard her uncle say. ‘Still here?’
‘Very young’ Roger Forsyte, who was forty-two, answered, in a voice which seemed to contradict his jaw: ‘I believe he’s still living at Pinner, or Highgate, or wherever it was.’
‘I should be glad to think so,’ murmured Sir Lawrence. ‘Old For – er, your cousin thought a lot of him. A regular Victorian piece.’
‘Very young’ Roger smiled. ‘Won’t you all sit down?’
Dinny, who had never yet been in a lawyer’s office, looked at the law books along the walls, the bundles of papers, the yellowish blind, the repellent black fireplace with its little coal fire that seemed to warm nothing, the map of an estate hanging unrolled behind the door, the low wicker basket on the table, the pens and sealing-wax, and ‘very young’ Roger, and thought of an album of seaweed, compiled by her first governess. She saw her father rise and place a document in the solicitor’s hands.
‘We’ve come about this.’
‘Very young’ Roger glanced at the heading of the paper and over it at Clare.
‘How does he know which of us it is?’ thought Dinny.
‘There’s no truth in the allegations,’ said the General.
‘Very young’ Roger caressed his jaw and began reading.
Dinny, from the side, could see that a sharp and rather bird-like look had come on his face.
Noticing that Dinny could see him, he lowered the paper and said: ‘They seem in a hurry. The petitioner signed the affidavit in Egypt, I see. He must have come over there to save time. Mr Croom?’
‘Yes.’
‘You wish us to represent you as well?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then Lady Corven and you. Later, perhaps, Sir Conway, you’d come in again.’
‘Do you mind if my sister stays?’ said Clare.
Dinny met the solicitor’s eyes. ‘Not at all.’ She did not know if he meant it.
The General and Sir Lawrence went out, and there was silence. ‘Very young’ Roger leaned against the fireplace, and most unexpectedly took a pinch of snuff. Dinny saw that he was lean and rather tall, and that his jaw jutted. There was a faintly sandy tinge in his hair, and in the ruddiness of his hollowed cheeks.
‘Your father, Lady Corven, said there was no truth in these – er – allegations.’
‘The facts are as stated, the inferences are wrong. There’s been nothing between Mr Croom and myself, except three kisses on my cheek.’
‘I see. About this night in the car, now?’
‘Nothing,’ said Clare: ‘Not even one of those kisses.’
‘Nothing,’ repeated young Croom; ‘absolutely nothing.’
‘Very young’ Roger passed his tongue over his lips.
‘If you don’t mind, I think I should like to understand your feelings for each other – if any.’
‘We are speaking,’ said Clare, in a clear voice, ‘the absolute truth, as we’ve told it to my people; that’s why I asked my sister to stay. Tony?’
‘Very young’ Roger’s mouth twitched. To Dinny he did not seem to be taking it quite as a lawyer should; something in his dress, indeed, was a little unexpected – his waistcoat was it, or his tie? That snuff, too – as if a dash of the artist had been suppressed in him. He said:
‘Yes, Mr Croom?’
Young Croom, who had gone very red, looked at Clare almost angrily.
‘I’m in love with her.’
‘Quite!’ said ‘very young’ Roger, reopening the snuff-box. ‘And you, Lady Corven, regard him as a friend?’
Clare nodded – a faint surprise on her face.
Dinny felt a sudden gratitude towards the questioner, who was applying a bandana to his nose.
‘The car was an accident,’ added Clare quickly; ‘it was pitch dark in the wood, our lights had failed, and we didn’t want to run any risk of people seeing us together so late at night.’
‘Exactly! Excuse my asking, but you’re both prepared to go into Court and swear there was absolutely nothing that night or on the other occasions, except – did you say – three kisses?’
‘On my cheek,’ said Clare; ‘one out of doors, when I was in a car and he wasn’t, and the others – when were the others, Tony?’
Young Croom said between his clenched teeth: ‘In your rooms when I hadn’t seen you for over a fortnight.’
‘You neither of you knew you were being – er – shadowed?’