"Mr. Admaston."
He dropped the paper, sprang to his feet as if someone had struck him, while his face grew absolutely white and the little mouth became a round "O" of consternation and alarm.
George Admaston walked slowly into the room.
He was a big man of about forty years of age, very quiet in manner, and with a strong, resolute face. The eyes were grey and steadfast, and wore that look which some people mistake for abstraction, but which is anything but that. They had the expression of one who thinks often and much. The finely chiselled mouth was set somewhat grimly, and there was great force and assertiveness about the slightly forward thrust of the massive chin. He was dressed in quiet grey tweeds, carried a bowler hat in his hand and a light coat over his arm.
"Hello, Ellerdine!" he said. "What are you doing here?"
The voice was deep and mellow, informed with weight and gravity, though pleasantly musical.
Lord Ellerdine looked hurriedly round the room. It might have been thought he was seeking an avenue of escape.
There was no one to help him, however, and he began to stutter horribly, while his eyes wore the look of a startled hare. "Here?" he gasped out. "Oh!" His eyes fell upon the breakfast-table, and an inspiration came to him. "Oh," he stuttered, "just had breakfast, don't you know."
"Early for you, isn't it?" said the big man, looking the wretched object before him full in the face.
"It is rather early," Lord Ellerdine replied. "Been travelling all——"