"Not yet," he answered, in the same tone, but she read something in his eye that made her watch him.
But the old gentleman did not like this disregard of his prior and exclusive claims as the host.
"Mr. Lyon came to see me, Edith. Sit down, Mr. Lyon. My canes are right here in the hall. I have never made anything like a collection, and I am afraid you will be disappointed, but this one was my father's. I've always kept that as a souvenir, but I never carried it myself. It was cracked when I got it, and I was afraid of breaking it. This thin little cane was one I carried as a young man. The dandies carried them for dress canes when they went beauing the young ladies in those days. I could tell tales--! You wouldn't suspect it, Edith, but your grandfather was quite a lady-killer in his day."
"This stout stick is the one that you usually carry, I see," said Lyon. He had run his eye over the entire lot when they were first laid before him, and the hope he had cherished that a cane resembling the one that Lawrence had carried might be found here had swiftly vanished. There was nothing like it. Still, even without that final link his discovery was so nearly perfect that he could hardly in reason ask for more. He rose, eager to get to Howell with his news. Edith, watchful of his face, guessed that there was something more in his inquiry than appeared upon the surface.
"Dandy has another cane upstairs, if you want to know about his entire collection," she said.
"No, I haven't, Edith."
"Oh, yes, you have. Dandy. It's in your room, behind the door. That cane with the heavy top that you got in New Orleans in 1842."
The old gentleman chuckled, and essayed an elaborate wink at Lyon.
"Oh, it's upstairs, is it?"
"Yes, I put it there yesterday. I came across it in the back hall. I think Eliza had kept it up there to straighten the pictures with."