“Stand back, you insolent scoundrel!” cried Chester, turning upon the butler fiercely; and the man obeyed on the instant.
“There is no occasion to make a scene, sir,” said the housekeeper, gently. “Pray be calm. You have, I see, made a mistake. Had you not better go home and write to Mr Clareborough? If your business is important, he will, no doubt, make an appointment to meet you.”
“But you!” cried Chester, returning to the attack, “you deny that you know me?”
“Certainly, sir, I do not know you,” replied the housekeeper.
“Had you not better dismiss this man?”
“No, no,” said the housekeeper, smiling; and there was a very sweet look on her handsome old face. “There is no occasion for that. Pray take my advice; go back home and write what you wish to say.”
“After what has passed, madam, I can hold no communication with Mr Clareborough.”
“Indeed! Well, sir, of course all you say is foreign to me, but I must tell you that it seems the only course open; so much can be done by letter.”
“Then, as I understand,” said Chester, more quietly, “you refuse to give me a few words alone?”
“Yes, sir; you can have nothing to say to me that Mr Roach, the butler, may not hear.”