"No, I can read it very nicely. Your nephew is here, by-the-bye; he came last night."
"Guy? What's brought him here?"
M. Varbarriere's countenance was overcast. What had gone wrong? Some chamber in his mine had exploded, he feared, prematurely.
Varbarriere opened the door, intending to roar for Guy, but remembering where he was, and the dimensions of the place, he tugged instead at the bell-rope, and made his summons jangle wildly through the lower regions.
"Hollo!" cried Varbarriere from his threshold, anticipating the approaching waiter; "a young gentleman—a Mr. Guy Strangways, arrived last evening?"
"Strangways, please, sir? Strangways? No, sir, I don't think we 'av got no gentleman of that name in the 'ouse, sir."
"But I know you have. Go, make out where he is, and let him know that his uncle, Monsieur Varbarriere, has just arrived, and wants to see him—here, may I?" with a glance at the attorney.
"Certainly."
"There's some mischief," said Varbarriere, with a lowering glance at the attorney.
"It looks uncommon like it," mused that gentleman, sadly.