“Oh, ’im!” chuckled the soldier. “Are you the man from Kodak’s? I ’eard him a-cursin’ and a-swearin’ this morning when ’e smashed ’is camera. Just ’ere, it was. ’E’ll give you ’Ell!—’e says the strap broke. It’s always somebody else’s fault with ’is Lordship.”
Daniel smiled. “A bit impatient like, is he?” he asked. He saw no point in explaining his identity.
“Impatient!” laughed the corporal. “Twice already ’e’s sent for the whole shop. You’ll catch it, mate, I warn yer!”
Daniel followed the direction indicated to him, and crossing the flaming compound, soon reached the entrance of his cousin’s rooms. Here a soldier-servant took in his name, and, quickly returning, ushered him through the inner doorway.
Lord Barthampton had risen from his chair, and was standing in what appeared to be interested expectation of the meeting with his unknown relation. His tunic was unfastened, and his collarless shirt was open at the neck, revealing a pink, hairy chest. His heavy red face was damp with perspiration, and it was evident that he was feeling the effects of a large luncheon. He had a big lighted cigar in his hand, and on a table beside him there were glasses, a decanter, and a syphon. The Sporting Times and Referee lay on the floor at his feet.
As Daniel appeared in the doorway his manner suddenly changed, and his bloodshot blue eyes opened wide under frowning eyebrows. He slowly replaced the cigar in his mouth and thrust his hands into his pockets.
“What d’you want?” he muttered.
“Well, Cousin Charles ...” said Daniel. He held out his hand, but Lord Barthampton made no responding movement.
“So you are Daniel, are you!” he ejaculated. “I might have guessed it. I’d heard that you were a sort of prize-fighting vagabond. What d’you want to see me for?”
“First of all,” the visitor replied, “to say I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t know till afterwards who you were.”