“Master’s very much distressed about her, gentlemen. Miss Renée is a very great favourite of his.”
“Is my uncle awake, do you think?”
“I think so, sir,” was the reply.
“Ask him if he will say a few words to my father and me. Tell him we are in great trouble.”
The little man bowed and went upstairs, returning at the end of a minute or two to request them to walk up.
“Last time I was here,” thought Dick, “I asked him for a couple of tenners, and he told me never to come near him again. A stingy old hunks! But, there, he’s kind to the girls.”
The little panel opened as Vidler closed the door, and Sir Humphrey, looking very old, and grey of hair and face, sat looking at it, leaving his son to open the conversation.
“Well, Humphrey, what is it?” said the voice behind the wainscoting.
“How do you do, Bob?” began the old gentleman. “I—I—Richard, my boy, tell your uncle; I’m too weak and upset.”
“We’re in great trouble, uncle,” began Dick sharply.