He took a step forward, but the old man stood fast.
“You know all there is to know,” said the old clerk sourly, as he looked half angrily at Vine, and then, totally ignoring Harry, he turned his eyes on Louise, when the hard look softened a little. “Send in by and by if you want to hear, or I’ll send to you—if he dies.”
“Dies!” cried Vine, with a start of horror. “No, no; he is not so bad as that.”
“As bad as a man can be to live.”
“You forget yourself, Crampton,” said Vine, with dignity. “You forget yourself. But there, I can look over it all now. I know what you must feel. Go and tell Mrs Van Heldre or Miss Madelaine that we are here.”
The old man hesitated for a few moments, and then drew back to allow Louise and her father to pass; but as Harry stepped forward hastily to follow, the old man interposed, and fiercely raised his hand.
“No!” he said. “I’m master now. Go back! Go back!”
Harry shrank from him as Crampton stood pointing down the street, and then strove hard to master the abject sensation of dread which made him feel that all the old man said was true. He was master now; and with an angry gesture he turned and walked swiftly away, to turn as he reached the end of the street and see Crampton watching him from the doorstep, and with his hand still raised.
“Am I such an abject coward that I am frightened of that old man?” he muttered, as he recalled how only a few hours back he used to treat him with a flippant condescending contempt. “Yes, he’s master now, and means to show it. Why did I not go in boldly?”
He knew why, and writhed in his impotence and dread. The task of keeping a bold face on the matter was harder than he thought. He wandered about the town in an objectless way hour after hour, and then went home. His father and sister had not returned, but Aunt Marguerite was down, ready to rise in her artificial manner and extend her hand.