It was too late. With fascinated eyes I watched him leave his place and come towards us. I was absolutely powerless to move. Mrs. Smith-Lessing had left the outside chair vacant. He sank into it and leaned across the table towards me.
"It is Guy," he said in a shaking voice. "I am sure that it is Guy.
She has told you who I am. Eh?"
"Yes," I answered. "I know who you are."
He extended a shaking hand across the table. I could not take it.
"Well, well," he said nervously, "perhaps you are right. But I came to
England to see you. Yes, Guy, that is the truth! I have been a bad
father, but I may be able to make amends. I think I know a way.—
Waiter, a glass of brandy."
"I am afraid," I said, rising to my feet, "that you must excuse me.—If you have anything to say to me, sir, we can meet another time."
He almost dragged me down.
"Stop, stop!" he said irritably. "You do not seem to understand. I had an important matter of business to discuss with you. I may make your fortune yet, my boy! I have powerful friends abroad, very powerful."
I looked at him steadily.
"Well?"