"He did not mention his business?" asked Sir Richard.
"No, sir," replied the man; "but he said that it was very important, and that you would be glad to see him."
"Show him up, then," said Sir Richard, decisively.
The servant accordingly bowed and departed.
"A stranger!—a gentleman!—and come to me upon important and pleasant business," muttered the baronet, musingly—"important and pleasant!—Can my old, cross-grained brother-in-law have made a favourable disposition of his property, and—and—died!—that were, indeed, news worth hearing; too much luck to happen me, though—no, no, it can't be—it can't be."
Nevertheless, he thought it might be; and thus believing, he awaited the entrance of his visitor with extreme impatience. This suspense, however, was not of long duration; the door opened, and the servant announced Mr. Audley—a dapper little gentleman, in grave habiliments of bottle-green cloth; in person somewhat short and stout; and in countenance rather snub-featured and rubicund, but bearing an expression in which good-humour was largely blended with self-importance. This little person strutted briskly into the room.
"Hem!—Sir Richard Ashwoode, I presume?" exclaimed the visitor, with a profound bow, which threatened to roll his little person up like an armadillo.
Sir Richard returned the salute by a slight nod and a gracious wave of the hand.
"You will excuse my not rising to receive you, Mr. Audley," said the baronet, "when I inform you that I am tied here by the gout; pray, sir, take a chair. Mary, remove your work to the room underneath, and lay the ebony wand within my reach; I will tap upon the floor when I want you."
The girl accordingly glided from the room.