"Sybil."
No answer; she dared not move, lest the rustle of her silks should betray her. "S-Sybil, I say, lemme in." Still no reply, and John Burrill shook the door violently, and ground out an oath.
Just then came the sound of another door further up the hall, her mother's door. It opened easily, and closed softly, and then quick, cat-like steps approached, and the voice of Jasper Lamotte, low and serene as usual, arrested the noise of the baffled applicant for admittance.
"Less noise, Burrill." Sybil had not heard her father address him in that tone of familiar command. "Sybil's not there."
"Jes zif I didn't know better."
"Nonsense, man; your wife is below with her mother at this moment. Now stop that fuss, and shake yourself out. I've some private words for your ear."
"Oh;" the man's voice dropped a tone lower; "quite a time since we've 'ad many private words. 'Bout Sybil?"
"No, sir." The tone was lower than before, and so stern that it caused the listener to start. "It's about your business and mine."
"Oh! maybe you want to settle up and discharge me. Maybe you don't need me any more."
"Curse you for a fool! You know your own value too well. Bully as you please, where the rest are concerned, but drop your airs with me. Settle with Sybil later, if you must; I want you now."