Mr. Arnold was a gentleman, as far as his self-importance allowed. He did not apologize for what he had said, but he changed his manner at once.
“I am quite bewildered, Mr. Sutherland. It is a very annoying piece of news—for many reasons.”
“I can show you where I laid it—in the safest corner in my room, I assure you.”
“Of course, of course. It is enough you say so. We must not keep the dinner waiting now. But after dinner I shall have all the servants up, and investigate the matter thoroughly.”
“So,” thought Hugh with himself, “some one will be made a felon of, because the cursed dead go stalking about this infernal house at midnight, gathering their own old baubles. No, that will not do. I must at least tell Mr. Arnold what I know of the doings of the night.”
So Mr. Arnold must still wait for his dinner; or rather, which was really of more consequence in the eyes of Mr. Arnold, the dinner must be kept waiting for him. For order and custom were two of Mr. Arnold’s divinities; and the economy of his whole nature was apt to be disturbed by any interruption of their laws, such as the postponement of dinner for ten minutes. He was walking towards the door, and turned with some additional annoyance when Hugh addressed him again:
“One moment, Mr. Arnold, if you please.”
Mr. Arnold merely turned and waited.
“I fear I shall in some degree forfeit your good opinion by what I am about to say, but I must run the risk.”
Mr. Arnold still waited.