So deeply was he absorbed that he did not hear the opening of the front door, followed by a footstep in the hall. Nor did he hear the stealthy opening of the door of the library; much less did he see the burly figure which advanced on tiptoe to his table.
"Be calm!" said a gruff voice, and a hand was laid on his shoulder.
"Hey! What? Who,—who—are—you?" The merchant prince started in his chair, and beheld a burly form enveloped in a bear-skin overcoat and full-moon face, spotted with carbuncles.
"Be calm!" said the owner of the face, in a hoarse voice. "There's no occasion to alarm yourself. These things will happen."
The merchant prince was thoroughly amazed.
Opening his small eyes, half concealed by heavy lids, to their fullest extent, he cried: "What do you mean? Who are you?—I don't know you? What—what—"
"I'm Blossom, I am," returned the full-moon face, "Lay low! Keep dark! I'm Blossom, one of the secret police. Lay low!"
"My God! Is Evelyn in another scrape?" ejaculated the merchant prince; "I will pay for no more of his misdeeds. There's no use of talking about it. I'll not go his bail, if he rots in the Tombs. I'll—" Mr. Somers doggedly folded his arms, and sat bolt upright in his chair.
With his contracted features, spare form and formal white cravat, he looked the very picture of an unrelenting father.
"Come, hoss, there's no use of that."