"Young Mr. Cruger and his father are asking for you, sir," Joles said quietly to Mr. Stanton.
"Ask them to wait—I must see this gentleman," said Stanton, indicating Von Barwig. Joles bowed himself out. Hélène was pleased that her father acceded so readily to her wishes. She went to him and placing her hand on his arm said in a low voice:
"Let him explain, father! I want him to come back to me. It will make me very happy—please—this is my birthday."
Stanton nodded, but made no reply. Hélène gave Von Barwig an encouraging smile and went out of the room, quietly closing the door after her.
Von Barwig had been studying the man before him. There was quite a silence.
"Well, Henry?" he said after a few moments.
"Anton," murmured Stanton in a low tone as if ashamed to speak. Von Barwig's eyes glittered as he heard his name familiarly pronounced by the man he was regarding with deadly enmity.
"The world has revolved a few times since I last saw you—but I am here," he said, repressing his anger; and this repression gave a curiously hard and guttural effect to his voice.
"I have been expecting this moment for a long time," said Stanton in a conciliating tone. "I've tried to forget."
"You have been very successful," replied Von Barwig. "You have forgotten your own name for sixteen years. A prosperous friend has a poor memory, Henry."