“Stay here?” said Gertrude, withdrawing her hands. “Oh, yes, it is your own house.”
“Ah, to be sure, I suppose so,” cried the young man sharply; and as he spoke his dark eyes were running from one to the other, and then to the dog, which kept on sniffing at him uneasily. “Won’t bite, will he?”
“Oh no. Lie down, Bruno,” cried Gertrude hastily.
“Don’t know so much about that,” said Saul; “he can bite sometimes.”
“Well, he’d better keep his fangs out of me,” said the young man, with an involuntary movement of the hand beneath the back of his morning coat.
“You’ll excuse me,” interposed Saul, taking a step forward, “but you are a perfect stranger to us, sir.”
“Natural-lee,” said the young man. “Never met before, of course.”
“Then will you be good enough to give me some proofs that you are the gentleman whose card you sent up.”
“Eh? Proofs? Oh, yes. No, I won’t. Look here, sir, this is a curious welcome; pray, who are you?”
“I gave you my card, sir.”