Sorrow and strife;
But to have thee, hold thee, enfold thee,
It is life—it is life.”
“So he has bidden you turn me from his door in case I ever have the temerity to present myself?” repeated Challoner, dryly, his thin lips under his mustache curling into an unmistakable sneer, and a look not pleasant to see creeping into his eyes.
“Those were his precise words, sir,” assented the man, quietly. “He is in, but it would do little good to tell him that you were here; he would go off into a towering rage, and you know what that means. He is worse than ever, sir, when he gets into a tantrum. It would be as much as my place was worth, Master Raymond, to tell him you were here and wished to see him.”
“Let this be an inducement to you to do my bidding,” said Challoner, slipping a bank note into the man’s hand. “Make what excuse for my presence you deem best—that the door was left accidentally open and you found me standing in the hall—anything.”
“I will act upon that suggestion, as it is a clever one, Master Raymond,” and he turned and left him pacing angrily up and down the corridor.
“Married!” muttered Raymond Challoner between his clinched teeth. “That is indeed a blow to me. But even now I ought not to lose hope. Perhaps there is some way of making him jealous and casting her off. I will think up a plan to part them just as surely as my name is——”
His meditations came to an abrupt ending, for, raising his eyes, he beheld the tall, angular form of his uncle standing there before him. How long he had been standing there regarding him thus keenly, Challoner did not know. He wondered vaguely if he had been muttering any part of the thoughts aloud that had been whirling so madly through his brain. He could only hope not.
“So, you have presented yourself here after my express orders that you should never darken my door again, have you?” cried the old man, harshly, his keen gaze penetrating his unwelcome visitor like the sharp blade of a knife.