“He might be polite as well as pleasant,” said Bartley Bradstone, looking at his watch. “It isn’t quite the thing for a newcomer to keep us all waiting.”
Bertie cut in quickly.
“It wants two minutes to six,” he said; “your watch is fast, Mr. Bradstone.”
“It’s one of Dent & Frodsham’s chronometers,” he retorted.
“It’s fast all the same,” said Bertie, firmly, but pleasantly. “I timed mine at the station an hour or two ago.”
Before Bartley Bradstone could meet this argument, the door opened, and the footman announced Mr. Faradeane, and the great hall clock chimed the hour.
Every eye was, not unnaturally, turned upon the latest guest, and Olivia thought that Annie was right as she glanced at the tall figure and handsome face. Unlike Mr. Bartley Bradstone, his dress-suit was not in the latest cut, and instead of a blazing diamond was a plain black pearl.
An expression of approval shone in the squire’s eyes, for Faradeane’s appearance in evening dress confirmed the squire in his good opinion of him.
“You have just come in time to prevent a duel of time-pieces,” he said.
Aunt Amelia simpered.