This last
consideration appeared to decide Mr. Blake. He promised to follow my
advice.
The sound of the hammer informed us that the work of re-furnishing was
in full progress, as we entered the drive that led to the house.
Betteredge, attired for the occasion in a fisherman's red cap, and an
apron of green baize, met us in the outer hall. The moment he saw me,
he pulled out the pocket-book and pencil, and obstinately insisted on
taking notes of everything that I said to him. Look where we might, we
found, as Mr. Blake had foretold that the work was advancing as rapidly
and as intelligently as it was possible to desire. But there was still
much to be done in the inner hall, and in Miss Verinder's room. It
seemed doubtful whether the house would be ready for us before the end
of the week.
Having congratulated Betteredge on the progress that he had made (he
persisted in taking notes every time I opened my lips; declining, at
the same time, to pay the slightest attention to anything said by Mr.
Blake); and having promised to return for a second visit of inspection
in a day or two, we prepared to leave the house, going out by the back
way.
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