"That's my name, sir. And what may you want? I don't know whether you are aware that you have found your way into my private dining-room without any introduction. Where the mischief are the fellows, Alfred, who ought to have seen about this? I wish you'd look to it, Miles. Can anybody who pleases walk into my hall?"
"I came on a mission which I hope may be pleaded as my excuse," said the priest. Although he was bold, he found it difficult to explain his mission. Had not Lord Alfred been there he could have done it better, in spite of the very repulsive manner of the great man himself.
"Is it business?" asked Lord Alfred.
"Certainly it is business," said Father Barham with a smile.
"Then you had better call at the office in Abchurch Lane,—in the City," said his lordship.
"My business is not of that nature. I am a poor servant of the Cross, who is anxious to know from the lips of Mr. Melmotte himself that his heart is inclined to the true Faith."
"Some lunatic," said Melmotte. "See that there ain't any knives about, Alfred."
"No otherwise mad, sir, than they have ever been accounted mad who are enthusiastic in their desire for the souls of others."
"Just get a policeman, Alfred. Or send somebody; you'd better not go away."
"You will hardly need a policeman, Mr. Melmotte," continued the priest. "If I might speak to you alone for a few minutes—"