"We shall, I presume, be undisturbed?"
The speaker was Henry Barron; and he and Flaxman stood for a moment surveying each other after their first greeting.
"Certainly. I have given orders. For an hour if you wish, I am at your disposal."
"Oh, we shall not want so long."
Barron seated himself in the chair pointed out to him. His portly presence, in some faultlessly new and formal clothes, filled it substantially; and his colour, always high, was more emphatic than usual. Beside him, Flaxman made but a thread-paper appearance.
"I have come on an unpleasant errand"—he said, withdrawing some papers from his breast pocket—"but—after much thought—I came to the conclusion that there was no one in this neighbourhood I could consult upon a very painful matter, with greater profit—than yourself."
Flaxman made a rather stiff gesture of acknowledgment.
"May I ask you to read that?"
Barron selected a letter from the papers he held and handed it to his host.
Flaxman read it. His face changed and worked as he did so. He read it twice, turned it over to see if it contained any signature, and returned it to Barron.