"I am quite at your service for an hour. Sit down. You are not looking as well as I should like to see so good a friend."
"Friend!" sighed Grey. "Don't use that word again until I have finished."
A quick look of present interest came into the dreamy eyes. The baronet said: "I am ready to hear."
"I have been told by Mrs. Grant that you have come home to consult with Miss Midharst about some important matter—I do not know what, and I do not seek to know. Before you see Miss Midharst, I want to say to you some words of the deepest importance, and I want you to permit me to—lock the door." He was grave and collected in manner, and as he said the last words he waved his hand softly towards the door.
"You may lock the door," said Sir William, taking an easy-chair, and relapsing into his dreamy manner.
The banker walked slowly to the door, locked it deliberately, and then came back to the window at which the young man was sitting. Then he sat down on a chair opposite Sir William, having placed his bag on a small table that stood between them.
The day was bright and clear. Past the wall of the hotel through which that window looked ran the Weeslade. It was ebb tide, and now and then down the river shot a small boat or glided a barge, while from the upper wharves came the sound of chains and tackles, and the hoarse hoot of the steamboat blowing off steam.
For a few seconds Grey sat silent, resting his head upon his hand. At last he spoke:
"You have been asked to come back from Egypt to give advice to Miss Midharst on some subject of importance. You are by your relationship with her, and by her own agreement with you, the guardian of her person. I am by the will of her father the guardian of her fortune. Yours is a precious trust."
Grey paused here to give the young man an opportunity of saying something. Sir William merely said: "That is so."