But he never investigated them either. He had promised 'Toinette that,
though he often watched them from his bedroom window, at night, watched
them and wondered, and thought a good deal about Borkins and how he had
lied to him about his uncle's disappearance upon that first night.
Between Borkins and himself there grew up a spirit of distrust which he
regretted yet did nothing to counteract. In fact it is to be feared that
he did his best at times to irritate the staid old man who had been in
the family so long. Borkins _did_ amuse him, and he couldn't help leading
him on. Borkins, noting this attitude, drew himself into himself and his
face became mask-like in its impassivity.

But if Borkins became a stone image whenever Merriton was about, his
effusiveness was over-powering at such times as Mr. Brellier paid a visit
to the Towers. He followed both Brellier and his niece wherever they went
like a shadow. Jokingly one day, Merriton had made the remark: "Borkins
might be your factotum rather than mine, Mr. Brellier; indeed I've no
doubt he would be, if the traditions of the house had not so long lain in
his hands." He was rewarded for this remark by a sudden tightening of
Brellier's lips, and then by an equally sudden smile. They were very good
friends these days--Brellier and Merriton, and got on very excellently
together.

And then, as the days wore themselves away and turned into months,
Merriton woke up to the fact that he could wait no longer before putting
his luck to the test so far as 'Toinette was concerned. He had already
confided his secret to Brellier, who laughed and patted him on the back
and told him that he had known of it a long time and wished him luck. It
wasn't long after this he was telling Brellier the good news that
'Toinette had accepted, and the two of them came to tell him of their
happiness.