“Can I see you alone?” he inquired.
“Yes,” said Ralph, “I am usually with Mr. Macneillie, but he has friends in Southampton and is staying with them, so I happen to be quite alone.”
“All the better” said Sir Matthew a touch of his old manner returning to him. “We will take a cab. I have only this gladstone with me.”
And accepting Ralph’s offer to carry his bag, he drew the tartan carefully over the lower part of his face and crossed the platform swiftly to the cabstand.
Ralph felt like one in a dream as they drove through the town to his lodgings, and several times he recalled the day when as a child he had last left Whinhaven, and Sir Matthew and he had sat thus side by side driving through the crowded London streets to Queen Anne’s Gate.
The tables were turned indeed! It occurred to him even more strikingly as he took Sir Matthew into his snug little sitting-room in Portland Street and saw him warming his hands at the fire. Recollecting that his Godfather was a great tea-drinker, he rang at once and ordered the landlady to make some ready.
“That will be coals of fire on his head,” he thought to himself with a smile as he recalled the afternoon when he had sat hungrily in Lady Mactavish’s great drawing-room privileged only to hand cups to other people.
Sir Matthew was curiously silent, and as he sat by the fire seemed to care for nothing but the warmth and the food. By and bye, however, glancing at his watch he seemed to remember that his time was limited.
“You are acting this evening?” he inquired.
“Yes,” said Ralph, “in the ‘Rivals.’ I must be at the theatre in three quarters of an hour. Can you tell me now what you want with me?”