"Oh, a mistake, and by such a clever man as you are!"
"I am not clever, sir--far from it. Every man is liable to error. A person has been in this room, but I did not open the door to him. He opened it himself."
"What!" cried Mr. Boyd, starting from his chair in mingled anger and alarm.
"Yes, sir, he opened it himself. How could I help that, sir--I ask you, how could I help that?"
A few moments elapsed before Mr. Boyd spoke; and during the silence he took a revolver from a drawer, which he unlocked for the purpose. Then he said slowly, "Who was the man?"
"Your son, sir, Mr. Reginald."
"My son! He was forbidden the house!"
"I can't help that, sir. He knocked three times at the street door, and bearing your instructions in mind I did not answer the knocks. When he came into the room I asked him how he had got in, and he produced the key he was in the habit of using when he lived here. He wanted to see you, and I told him you were not in. He said he would wait, and I begged him not to, because I knew you would be angry if you saw him here. Then he said he would call to see you later, and I begged him not to mention that he had been here; he gave me the promise and left the house. That is the whole truth of the matter, sir."
"Why were you so anxious that this visit should be kept a secret from me?"
"I feared you might suspect that we were in--in----" He could not hit upon the right word.