"Oh!" exclaimed Manton. And under the bleak eye of the butler he disinterred it from his pocket, tore open the envelope, and read the contents. The telegram had been dispatched from Camden Town, and ran:
"Wire when you can come. Of course I will forgive you.—ELAINE."
He was conscious, as he read the words, that the butler's eyes were fixed steadily upon him.
Then the old servant turned and preceded him towards the broad staircase. They ascended to the first landing, and here the butler wheeled to the right and halted before a double green baize door. The elderly man knocked, paused for a moment, then pushed open the door, and stepped into a room lined with books, a spacious, luxuriously furnished apartment, with two mullioned windows overlooking the park. John, following him, saw him cross to a deep, high-backed arm-chair near the hearth.
"Mr. Bernard's here, sir," he announced, standing before this chair.
There was a movement in the chair, then a tall, soldierly, grey-haired man revealed himself, leaning on a stick, and looked across at Manton. He looked at him with a cold, inimical gaze, and until the butler had closed the door and departed, did not utter a word, Then he spoke:
"So you've come, you dog, have you!" The almost savage intensity of dislike and contempt in his tone struck the young man like a blow in the face.
"I got your letter——" he began.
"Oh, yes, I found out where you were. Well," he went on, harshly, "there is no need for us to waste compliments on each other. We will settle the business that is to be settled at once."
He moved shakily towards a desk in the middle of the room, using his stick as a support. Manton, seeing his frailty, hurried forward to assist him, but the old man drew himself erect, raised his stick, and flashed a look at him of utter repulsion.