“No,” replied John frankly. “But with her it might! I should prefer, I must own, to address myself to her with your consent, but I won’t deceive you, sir!—With or without your consent I mean to marry your granddaughter!”
The smile was growing. “Joe told me you were a fellow after my own heart, and for once in his life the rascal was right! I wish you well: you may be crazy, but you’re not a damned adventurer!” His hand relaxed on the chair-arm: his head sunk on to his breast again, but he lifted it, with an effort, when John rose to his feet, and said sharply: “Don’t go! Something else I have to say to you!”
“I’m not going, sir.” John waited until the head drooped again, and then walked quietly to the door which led into the dressing-room.
Winkfield was dozing in a high-backed chair by the table, but he got up quickly, an anxious question in his face.
“I think your master would be the better for his cordial,” John said. “He is tired, but he will not permit me to leave him until he has told me something that seems to be on his mind. I think it will be best to let him have his way. Give me the cordial! I’ll see he drinks it.”
The valet nodded, and turned to measure it into a wineglass. “If you could set his mind at rest, sir——!”
“I can at least try to do so. Tell me this! Does that hang-gallows fellow below-stairs force himself upon Miss Nell’s notice?”
“Once, sir—but I happened to be at hand. Since then, no. Not yet.”
John nodded, taking the glass from him. “Send me word if he should become troublesome!” he said, and went back into the bedchamber.
Sir Peter’s eyes were closed, but he opened them as John came across the room, and said irritably: “I wasn’t asleep! What’s this?”