"Yes. And I told him you weren't."
"That's right," he said in a tone of relief.
"And he said we must stop the affray."
"He was right. It would be criminal," said Hilary Vance solemnly. "After all it isn't myself: I have to consider posterit—"
A sudden, very loud knocking on the front door cut short the word.
"That's him!" said Pollyooly in a hushed voice.
Hilary Vance rose, folded his two big arms, and faced the door of the studio, his brow knitted in a dreadful frown.
"Hadn't I better send him away?" said Pollyooly anxiously.
Hilary Vance ground his teeth and scowled steadily at the studio door for a good half-minute. Then he let his arms fall to his sides, walked with a very haughty air to his bedroom, opened the door, and from the threshold said:
"Yes: you'd better send him away—if you can."