"He shall have all the opportunity he wants presently," Wingate observed.
The door was opened with the soft abruptness of one who has approached it noiselessly by design. Dredlinton stood upon the threshold, blinking a little as he gazed into the room. He recognized Wingate with a start of amazement.
"Wingate?" he exclaimed. "Why the mischief didn't any one tell me you were here?"
"Mr. Wingate called to see me," Josephine replied.
There was an ugly curl upon Dredlinton's lips. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Then his truculent attitude suddenly vanished without the slightest warning. He became an entirely altered person.
"Look here, Wingate," he confessed, "on thinking it over, I believe I've been making rather an idiot of myself. Josephine," he went on, turning to his wife, "be so kind as to leave us alone for a short time."
He opened the door. Josephine hesitated for a moment, then, in response to a barely noticeable gesture from Wingate, she left the room. Her husband closed the door carefully behind her. His attitude, as he turned once more towards the other man, was distinctly conciliatory.
"Wingate," he invited, "sit down, won't you, and smoke a cigar with me. Let us have a reasonable chat together, I am perfectly convinced that there is nothing for us to quarrel about."
"Since when have you come to that conclusion, Lord Dredlinton?" Wingate asked, without abandoning his somewhat uncompromising attitude.
"Since our interview at the office."