CHAPTER XXXVI. A FEVERED MIND
Harcourt passed the morning of the following day in watching the street for Scaresby's arrival. Glencore's impatience had grown into absolute fever to obtain the missing letter, and he kept asking every moment at what hour he had promised to be there, and wondering at his delay.
Noon passed over,—one o'clock; it was now nearly half-past, as a carriage drove hastily to the door.
“At last,” cried Glencore, with a deep sigh.
“Sir Gilbert Bruce, sir, requests to know if you can receive him,” said the servant to Harcourt.
“Another disappointment!” muttered Glencore, as he left the room, when Harcourt motioned to the servant to introduce the visitor.
“My dear Colonel Harcourt,” cried the other, entering, “excuse a very abrupt call; but I have a most pressing need of your assistance. I hear you can inform me of Lord Glencore's address.”
“He is residing in North Wales at present. I can give you his post town.”
“Yes, but can I be certain that he will admit me if I should go down there? He is living, I hear, in strict retirement, and I am anxious for a personal interview.”