He broke off, and Boris looked at him in surprise and apprehension. But Sir Robert was not looking at him; he was staring into the big, lacquered mirror, and his face had become absolutely expressionless.
“One moment,” he said quietly, and touched a button of an electric bell-stand on the table beside him, without removing his gaze from the mirror.
“Can I do anything?” Boris began, and paused as Sir Robert lifted his hand warningly. He appeared to be listening intently.
In about a couple of minutes Thomson entered the room.
“Oh, it’s you, Thomson,” said Sir Robert quietly. “I thought you were out?”
“I returned some time ago, sir.”
“Where is Perkins?”
“Downstairs at supper, Sir Robert.”
“Oh! Will you put on the lights in Lady Rawson’s boudoir? Go through this way, please,” Sir Robert added as Thomson moved towards the door by which he had entered.
“Very good, sir,” he answered, and imperturbably drew back the dragon curtains, pushed back the partly opened doors, switched on the lights in the inner room, and returned for further orders.