They were engaged interestedly with the food when the door opened and admitted Dr. King and Captain Weir.
"Well," said the physician, as he shook Anthony's hand. "I see that it has not taken you a great while to hear of our advantages. Captain Weir you know, I think."
Anthony once more shook hands with Weir; and as he looked into his face he again noted the level, steady eyes, the fixed expression, and the scar across the jaw. Whitaker had also arisen to greet the new-comers; and a few moments later, while he was engaged in some talk with the captain, Dr. King said in a low tone to Anthony:
"Weir is a man well worth cultivating; he has the strongest hand in all your uncle's affairs. He is firm, sane, reserved, unemotional, never in haste; and little escapes him."
"Different sorts of men," said Whitaker, after the two had left them and taken a table at the other end of the room. "Totally different, but, I should say, equally dependable. Fine quality, both of them. But Weir is none of your easy-mannered ones, like the doctor; courtly conduct isn't taught on the decks of Yankee ships."
"They are close friends, though, I suppose?" said Anthony.
"No," replied Whitaker; "no. I think they admire each other in a practical way; but they are not at all intimate. Their being together to-night is, I think, because of you. Dr. King, I think, desires a place made for you in the counting-house."
"I see," said Anthony.
Active inroads had been made in the pasty; the tankards had run low and been refilled when Anthony, chancing to look up, saw Mademoiselle Lafargue and her father moving among the tables toward him. At once he pushed back his chair and arose. His eyes met hers, but she averted her face and passed him by without a word or sign. A waiter opened a door for them, which apparently led into a smaller room; and then it closed, leaving Anthony standing, stunned.
"That was unkind!" exclaimed Whitaker. "Most devilishly unkind. She hasn't the excuse that she didn't see you; she looked full at you."