One day, a month or so after Christmas, when both Ralph and Walter were from home, a knock at the front door announced a visitor, and the servant subsequently announced to Miss Burgess that a gentleman, who sent in his card, wished to see Mr. Wilson. The card had on it the name—
JOHN TINCROFT,
QUEEN'S COLLEGE, OXFORD.
"Ask the gentleman to come in," Mary said, after a moment's thought. "I will speak to him."
The gentleman accordingly entered the room, and was rather ceremoniously invited to be seated.
"Walter is not within now, but he soon will be, if you would like to wait," said Mary Burgess.
"I can call again," replied John. "I came in by coach an hour or two ago, and shall not be leaving till to-morrow. I can therefore adapt my time to your friend's leisure. Or, probably, when he sees my card, he will prefer seeing me at the inn where I am now staying;" and Tincroft named a certain inn near at hand.
"I think you had better see him here, if you are really anxious for an interview, Mr. Tincroft," said the lady, hesitatingly. "You see I have soon learned your name, sir. But excuse me," she added, "are you not putting your hand too near the lion's mouth?"
"I really beg your pardon, madam—" John looked rather nervously round as he spoke, especially as these or similar words of warning had been uttered by Mr. Rubric, only two days before; "but—I do not understand your meaning."
"I should apologise, then, for speaking in figures. I mean, are you prepared to quarrel with Walter Wilson, or is it your purpose to quarrel with him?"