“Curtis Waring is well fixed—that’s a fact!” he soliloquized. “I suppose he is the master here, for the old man isn’t likely to interfere. Still he will like it better when his uncle is out of the way.”
He had to wait but fifteen minutes in solitude, for at the end of that time Curtis Waring appeared.
He paused on the threshold, and frowned when he saw who it was that awaited him.
“Jane told me that a gentleman was waiting to see me,” he said.
“Well, she was right.”
“And you, I suppose, are the gentleman?” said Curtis, in a sneering tone.
“Yes; I am the gentleman,” remarked Bolton, coolly.
“I am not in the habit of receiving visits from gentlemen of your class. However, I suppose you have an object in calling.”
“It shall go hard with me if I don’t pay you for your sneers some day,” thought Bolton; but he remained outwardly unruffled.
“Well,” he answered, “I can’t say that I have any particular business to see you about. I saw your cousin recently.”