The old gentleman sat down and loosened the gilt clasp of a long cloak which he wore—an old-fashioned, oddly cut black cloak, with a cape to it.
Mattie forgot the likeness which this gentleman bore to the lodger up-stairs; lost her impression of the carriage at the door, and thought of Mrs. Watts and the hundred tricks of London thieves. She began thumping with her heels on the floor, until she quite shook up the old gentleman on the other side of the counter.
"What's that for, my child?" he asked.
"That'll bring up the servant—I never leave the shop."
The gentleman closed his glasses, and rapped upon the counter with them, in rather an amused manner.
"By Jupiter Tonans, that's amusing! She thinks I am going to make off with the stationery," he said, more to himself than Mattie.
Ann Packet, round eyed and wondering as usual, looked over the parlour blind. Mattie beckoned to her, and she opened the parlour door.
"Run up and tell Mr. Sidney that a gentleman wishes to see his father. Is he to wait, or to call again?"
"I think I might answer that question better myself—stay."
The slim old gentleman very slowly and deliberately searched for his card-case, produced it and drew forth a card.