I foresaw trouble.

I could not plead bland ignorance forever; though for the present I did not know the nature of Jaffery's scheme.

Anyhow I redeemed my promise and gave him Doria's message.

He received it with a grumpy nod and said nothing.
He had become somewhat grumpy of late, even when I did not broach the disastrous topic, and made excuses for not coming down to Northlands.
I attributed the unusual moroseness to London in vile weather.

At the best of times Jaffery grew impatient of the narrow conditions of town; yet there he was week after week, staying in a poky set of furnished chambers in Victoria Street, and doing nothing in particular, as far as I could make out, save riding on the tops of motor-omnibuses without an overcoat.
After his silent acknowledgment of the message, he stuffed his pipe thoughtfully--we were in the smoking-room of a club (not the Athenaeum) to which we both belonged--and then he roared out: "Do you think she could bear the sight of me ?" "What do you mean ?" I asked.
"Well"-- he grinned a little--"I'm not exactly a kind of sick-room flower." "I think you ought to see her--you're as much trustee and executor as I am.