“Where else should I be?” said Reginald, in a stern voice.
“What do you want?” asked Leon, rallying from his fear, and apparently encouraged by the sound of his own voice.
“What do I want?” repeated Reginald. “Many things. First, I want you; secondly, my mother.”
“You won't get any thing out of me,” said Leon, fiercely.
“In the first place, the sight of you is one of the chief things,” said Reginald, with a sneer. “After having heard your sad fate, it is something to see you here in the flesh.”
“It's that infernal porter!” cried Leon, half to himself.
“What do you mean? Do you blame him for letting me in—me—Reginald Dudleigh-your elder brother?”
“You're disinherited,” growled Leon.
“Pooh!” said Reginald. “How can the eldest son be disinherited? But I'm not going to waste time. I have come to call you to account for what you have done, and I have that to say to you which you must hear, and, what is more, you must obey.”
If Leon's face could have grown whiter than it already was, it would have become so at these words. His fear seemed swallowed up in a wild overmastering rush of fury and indignation. He started back and seized the bell-rope.