Issuing forth fuming from his plate-glass seclusion, he stopped one of the hurrying exquisites.
“Does Mr. Broughton know I am here?” he asked.
“Y-yes, sir!” The youth could not have said what made him tack that “sir” on. “You see, he’s very busy in a morning, if you haven’t an appointment. And this week the auditors are here. Could you leave your name and call again?”
“I see. No, I’m afraid I can’t. Will you have the goodness to tell him again, please? Say that Captain Broughton would like to see him—on business—important business.”
The lad hesitated for a moment between dread of his employer and a sense of something masterful, something which demanded obedience, about this brown-faced, quiet stranger. The stranger won, and with a “Very good, sir,” the messenger disappeared among the desks.
Presently he returned. Mr. Broughton would see his visitor now.
David’s half-brother sat in a vast lighted room behind a vast leather-covered table. He still had the round red cheeks and prominent eyes of his youth, but he was almost bald and showed an incipient corporation.
A youth laden with two huge ledgers backed out of the presence as David entered. Like the King, by Jove! Brother Edward was getting into no end of a big pot.
“Oh, good morning, David!” He waved his caller graciously to a seat. “This is quite an unaccustomed honour. I’m afraid you’ve come at rather a busy time—the auditors, and so forth. I hardly ever see anybody except by appointment. But I can give you ten minutes. And now—what can I do for you?”
The words were pleasant enough in a way; but that “What can I do for you?” signified as plainly as if he had said it, “What does this fellow want with me, I wonder?”