“That’s all right,” replied Maurice, who had an Englishman’s horror of a scene. “I will send over for your traps, and you can come to the Grange in time for dinner. We dine at seven o’clock.”
“Thank you, sir. I will be at your home to-night.”
The Rector, who had fully intended to ask Caliphronas to be his guest, was rather startled by Maurice’s precipitancy, but, on the whole, was not ill-pleased, for two reasons: the first being that he did not much care about burdening himself with this eccentric foreigner; and the second, that he was delighted that, during the stay of the Count at the Grange, Maurice would take to his modelling again.
“By the way,” said Maurice, turning suddenly to the Count, “do you know any one called Crispin?”
“Creespeen!” repeated Caliphronas, with his foreign accent; “no, I do not know that name.”
“He is a gentleman who is staying with me,” replied Roylands carelessly; “and, as he is pretty well acquainted with your part of the world, I thought you might have met him.”
The Greek smilingly denied that he had the honor of Crispin’s acquaintance, but it seemed to Maurice as though there was a shade of apprehension on his face which somewhat puzzled the young man.
“Can’t make this fellow out,” was his mental comment. “Hope I’m not making a mistake in asking him to the Grange. Still, the Archdeacon’s letter to Carriston is a sufficient guarantee that he is not a swindler, so I will chance it.”
“I must now say good-by,” said Caliphronas to the Rector, “and thank you for your kindness. Of course I will see you soon again.”
“Oh yes. You must come here as often as you can.”