"Sir," said he, anxious of eye as he beheld his young master's disordered dress and the grim pallor of his face, "the Marquis of Jerningham and Viscount Devenham called. They waited for you,—they waited over an hour."
"But they are gone now, of course?" inquired Barnabas, pausing, with his foot on the stair.
"Yes, sir—"
"Good!" nodded Barnabas with a sigh of relief.
"But they left word they would call to-morrow morning, early; indeed they seemed most anxious to see you, sir."
"Ha!" said Barnabas, and, frowning still, went on up the stair.
"Sir," said Peterby, lighting the way into the dressing-room, "you received the—the letter safely?"
"Yes, I received it," said Barnabas, tossing aside his hat and cloak, "and that reminds me,—to-morrow morning you will discharge all the servants."
"Sir?"
"Pay them a month's wages. Also you will get rid of this house and furniture, and all the carriages and horses—except 'The Terror,' —sell them for what they will fetch—no matter how little, only—get rid of them."