To make the situation more trying his friendship with Overton had not been without results. He and the great man had had several long talks over the farm and the condition of Mr. Lee’s affairs. Overton had been impressed. The morning after Louisa’s visit to Nellie, he had offered Vickers a position of some importance. The offer gave Vickers satisfaction. As the Lees’ lawyer, Mr. Overton must know all about Bob Lee’s past. Vickers felt that at last his own individuality had overcome Bob’s. Nevertheless he had declined. The position would have taken him to another city. He saw that Overton was puzzled and not very much pleased at his refusal.
“If the difficulty is with your father,” he said gently, “I think I could arrange that for you.”
Vickers said that it was not with his father, and Overton said no more. Vickers was sorry to see that he had lost ground.
He came up by a later train than usual. He felt put out with life and with himself, and stood frowning on the station platform looking for the trap that would take him to the house, when suddenly he saw that not the coachman, but Nellie, was driving it. For an instant his heart bounded. He looked round to see if Emmons were there, too. But few people patronized the late train. He was alone on the platform when Nellie drew up beside it.
“If any one had asked me in the train,” he said, “what was the most unlikely thing in the world, I should have answered ‘that Nellie should come and meet me.’”
To his surprise she assented quite gravely. “I wanted to see you before you went home. There is a man at the house asking for you.”
“What sort of a man?”
“A very queer-looking man, Bob,—an old man. He speaks very little English, and has very dangerous-looking eyes.”
“What’s his name?” said Vickers. He had begun to be nervous about Lee’s past. He could not tell what was about to overtake him.
“He won’t give his name. He just bows, and says to tell you a gentleman. He keeps calling you Don Luis, and then correcting himself and saying Meester Bob Lee.”