"You are to come up," said the girl reappearing.
James Cromwell smiled in conscious triumph.
"I thought so," he said to himself. "Well, now for my game. It will be a difficult one, but I will do my best."
Left alone, Paul Morton began to consider how he should treat the new-comer. He resolved to affect no recognition at first, and afterward indifference. He thought he might be able to overawe the young man, from his own superiority in social position, and so prevent his carrying out the purpose he proposed.
Accordingly, when James Cromwell entered the room, he arched his brows a little, and looked inquiringly at him.
"Have you business with me?" he said, abruptly. "Did not my servant inform you that, on account of a recent death, I am not receiving callers at present?"
"I thought you would see me," said the young man, with a mixture of familiarity and boldness.
"Really, I don't know what claims you have to be excepted to my rule," said Paul Morton, haughtily. "If you are a tradesman, and have a claim against me, you might have sent it in the regular way."
"I am not a tradesman, and I have no claim against you, Mr. Morton," said the young man—"that is, no regular claim."
"You speak in riddles, sir," said Mr. Morton, in the same haughty tone. "If you have no business with me, I am at a loss to know why you have intruded yourself upon me at such a time. Perhaps, however, you were unaware of my recent affliction."