"Mr Bevan, Mr Bevan!" cried old James Hancock in despair.
But Mr Bevan was gone, strutting out like an enraged turkey-cock through the outer office.
"I am afraid I have but made matters worse, I am afraid I have but made matters worse," moaned the peace-loving Mr Hancock, rubbing his shrivelled hands together in an agony of discomfiture, whilst Charles Bevan hailed a cab outside, determined to have it out man to man with this cousin who had dared to say that a Bevan had behaved in a dishonourable manner.
CHAPTER VIII AT "THE LAURELS"
Up in Highgate an hour later you might have seen a hansom driving about, pausing here and there to ask of policemen, pedestrians, and others for "The Laurels."
"There's a' many Laurels," said the milkman, who was also the first director, and so after awhile Mr Bevan found to his cost.
But at last they found, with the aid of a local directory, the right one, a spacious house built of red brick seen through an avenue of lime trees all abuzz with bees.
There was no sign of life in the little gate lodge, and the entrance gate was pushed back; the orderly eye of Charles Bevan noticed that it was half off its hinges; also, that the weeds in the avenue were rampant.