Soolsby got to his feet slowly, his eyes fixed inquiringly on his visitor.
“I didn’t knock,” said Eglington, taking off his greatcoat and reaching for a chair; then added, as he seated himself: “Better sit down, Soolsby.”
After a moment he continued: “Do you mind my smoking?”
Soolsby did not reply, but sat down again. He watched Eglington light a cigar and stretch out his hands to the wood fire with an air of comfort.
A silence followed. Eglington appeared to forget the other’s presence, and to occupy himself with thoughts that glimmered in the fire.
At last Soolsby said moodily: “What have you come for, my lord?”
“Oh, I am my lord still, am I?” Eglington returned lazily. “Is it a genealogical tree you are studying there?” He pointed to the map.
“I’ve studied your family tree with care, as you should know, my lord; and a map of Egypt”—he tapped the parchment before him—“goes well with it. And see, my lord, Egypt concerns you too. Lord Eglington is there, and ‘tis time he was returning-ay, ‘tis time.”
There was a baleful look in Soolsby’s eyes. Whatever he might think, whatever considerations might arise at other times, a sinister feeling came upon him when Eglington was with him.
“And, my lord,” he went on, “I’d be glad to know that you’ve sent for him, and told him the truth.”