“Oh, thanks,” said Dunn hurriedly. “I hope everything will be all right.” He rose to go. Cameron looked at him quickly. There was no mistaking the entreaty in his face.
Mr. Rae spoke somewhat more hurriedly than his wont. “If it is not asking too much, and if you can still spare time, your presence might be helpful, Mr. Dunn.”
“Stay if you can, old chap,” said Cameron. “I don't know what this thing is, but I'll do better if you're in the game, too.” It was an appeal to his captain, and after that nothing on earth could have driven Dunn from his side.
At this point the door opened and the clerk announced, “Captain Cameron, Sir.”
Mr. Rae rose hastily. “Tell him,” he said quickly, “to wait—”
He was too late. The Captain had followed close upon the heels of the clerk, and came in with a rush. “Now, what does all this mean?” he cried, hardly waiting to shake hands with his solicitor. “What mischief—?”
“I beg your pardon, Captain,” said Mr. Rae calmly, “let me present Mr. Dunn, Captain Dunn, I might say, of International fame.” The solicitor's smile broke forth with its accustomed unexpectedness, but had vanished long before Mr. Dunn in his embarrassment had finished shaking hands with Captain Cameron.
The Captain then turned to his son. “Well, Sir, and what is this affair of yours that calls me to town at a most inconvenient time?” His tone was cold, fretful, and suspicious.
Young Cameron's face, which had lighted up with a certain eagerness and appeal as he had turned toward his father, as if in expectation of sympathy and help, froze at this greeting into sullen reserve. “I don't know any more than yourself, Sir,” he answered. “I have just come into this office this minute.”
“Well, then, what is it, Mr. Rae?” The Captain's voice and manner were distinctly imperious, if not overbearing.