“What name?”
“Hart, sir.”
“Is he waiting?”
“Yes, sir. I told him that it would be useless, but he refuses to go away.”
“You can pass him. Send him here at once.”
My father turned away and looked at me with all the old weariness in his face, but with little agitation. Of the two, I was the more nervous. I crossed the room and laid my hand gently upon his shoulder.
“Thank God that I am here with you! What shall you say to him, father? What does he want, think you? Money?”
My father shook his head sadly.
“He would send if that were all. He has what he wants and that is not much. I fear that he wants something else.”
“What?”