Leaving her and Flora to the task to which they had devoted themselves, let us follow the movements of Nathan Gomer.
He stood alone at the door of Mr. Grahame in the Regent’s Park, very shortly after he had quitted Wilton’s residence, and he sent in his card, in a rather peremptory manner, by the same individual who had announced Mr. Chewkle. He took no heed of the representations made to him that—
“Mr. Grahame were engaged, and when he were engaged, his instructions was that no person should be admitted to interrupt him.”
“Give him my card—he’ll see me,” said Nathan, emphatically. “If you refuse,” he added, as the man hesitated, “I will walk up into the library where you say he is engaged with some one, and obtain your dismissal by acquainting your master with your refusal to announce me.”
There was something in the manner of Nathan that Whelks, the head footman, did not approve of, especially as he felt himself overawed by it, in spite of the affront to which he was called upon to submit. It was evident that in the eyes of the little visitor his importance was sadly underrated, and that he should have to put in his pocket the threat of dismissal which had been held out to him, and which, though he turned his nose up at it, caused him to take the card and proceed into the library, as the word “forgery” issued from his master’s lips.
He took no heed of it, for his mind was filled with Nathan Gomer—not favourably.
“Sir! he exclaimed, in the affected strain he usually adopted when addressing his master, “ther is a pesson below”——
“How dare you, scoundrel, intrude, when I am especially and privately engaged with any gentleman?” cried Mr. Grahame, leaping to his feet and speaking passionately, while his eyes sparkled with fury.
Whelks started back, and his wig sent up a small cloud of flour. He was so startled by the sudden action of Mr. Grahame, that he could hear his own heart beat against his ribs.
“I ask pardon, sir,” he faltered out, “but the pesson below”——