It was that of Gentleman Geff. His rolling eyes had fallen upon a group composed of Mike, Dandy and Longman, and he sat staring in horror upon them.
“That drunken idiot ought to be carried up to bed, Lamia,” said Leegh in strong disgust.
“I will not have him touched,” replied the woman, with a shudder.
In the meantime Randolph Hay had crossed the hall and turned the knob of the library door. He found it locked. Then he rapped.
“Who is there?” inquired the quavering voice of John Legg.
“It is I, your friend, Hay,” replied Ran.
The door was instantly opened by Julia Legg.
“Please excuse us and come in, Mr. Hay. We only locked the door to keep that terrible man from bursting in upon us,” said Julia apologetically.
“Quite right,” replied Ran, good-humoredly, as he entered the room.
He found John Legg still sitting at the narrow table from which the little supper had not yet been removed. The poor man looked pale, haggard, anxious and many years older than he had seemed a few hours before.