“Good Lord! A pump! Candles! It’s a shame! It’s a darned shame! A girl like that! It’s a darned shame!”
He blamed Mr. Ronald Phillips for all this.
When Cousin Ronald came home, he found a Stephen Ordway even more sinister than he had feared; a stern and very reticent young man, a very large one, too. By the light of the one candle in the sitting[Pg 424] room, he loomed, in the dictionary sense of the word—“loom: to appear larger than the real size, and indefinitely.” His red hair had an infernal gleam.
“Mr.—er—Ordway?” said Cousin Ronald. “Yes—yes—I had—er—a communication from you?”
“You did, Mr. Phillips.”
“Er—have you brought it with you?” asked Cousin Ronald, very low.
The young man said “Yes,” but made no move to produce any document. He was thinking of something else.
“This house is old,” he remarked; “but it seems pretty solid.”
“Yes, indeed!” Cousin Ronald assented anxiously. “Yes, indeed!” He saw that the young man was leading up to something. “Suppose we step into my study?”
The young man was looking about him, at the walls, up at the ceiling.