Colonel Wyvern hitched the celebrated eyebrows into a solid mass across the top of his nose, and from beneath them stared hideously at Jane, his parlour maid. Jane had just come into the morning room, where he was having a rather heated conversation with his daughter, Patricia, and had made the astounding statement that Mr. Lester Carmody was waiting in his front hall.
"Who?" said Colonel Wyvern, rumbling like a thunder cloud.
"Sir, please, sir, Mr. Carmody."
"Mr. Carmody?"
"And Mr. Carroll, sir."
Pat, who had been standing by the French windows, caught in her breath with a little click of her firm white teeth.
"Show them in, Jane," she said.
"Yes, miss."
"I will not see that old thug," said Colonel Wyvern.
"Show them in, Jane," repeated Pat, firmly. "You must, Father," she said as the door closed. "He may have come to apologize about that dynamite thing."