He took me down a long passage, and into a room which was only lighted from the roof. The furniture of the room was handsome, but covered everywhere with dust. The leather of the high-backed chairs was worm-eaten.
“Sit down, Miss Lindley,” he said, motioning to one of them.
And then, to my astonishment, he placed himself before a high desk, and began to write.
I am sure I must always have had a quick temper. I thought this old servant’s manners intolerable.
“Go and tell your master, at once, that his relative, Rosamund Lindley, is here,” I said. “Go, I am in a hurry.”
He dropped his pen, and looked at me with the dawning of a smile playing round his thin lips.
“And pray, who is my master?”
“My cousin, Mr Geoffrey Rutherford.”
“I happen to be that individual myself.”
I was really startled into jumping out of my seat. I flopped back again with a very red face, said “Oh!” and felt extremely foolish.