“Surely you are ill, or you have bad news?” she interrupted.
“No, I am not ill, although some business of a painful nature has upset me a trifle,” he answered, knowing that he was looking wretched, and not attempting to conceal his agitation.
“You know I do not like to be mixed up with business transactions,” his wife replied, with an impatient shrug of her shapely shoulders.
“But I particularly desire your presence while I make a statement to those gentlemen,” Colonel Mapleson said, striving to speak more calmly, though the hand that was resting on the back of Mrs. Mapleson’s chair trembled in a way to really startle her.
“Why, William,” she said, facing him. “have you been getting into financial trouble at your time of life?”
“No; it is an error—a mistake made long years ago that I wish to rectify,” he gravely answered.
“Who are these people?” she asked, still searching his face earnestly.
“A Mr. Huntress and his son from New York.”
“Huntress!” repeated the lady, reflectively. “Where have I heard that name before?”
“Never mind now, Estelle; you can think of that some other time. Please do not keep me waiting.”