“I will hear you if you will talk reason. I think you are mad.”
Chris got up again. He was trembling violently, and his hands twitched and clenched by his sides.
“Then you shall hear me,” he said, and his voice shook as he spoke. “It is this—”
“You must sit down,” interrupted Ralph, and he pointed to the chair behind.
Chris went to it and sat down. Ralph took a step across to the door and opened it.
“Morris,” he called, and came back to his chair.
There was silence a moment or two, till the servant’s step sounded in the hall, and the door opened. Mr. Morris’s discreet face looked steadily and composedly at his master.
“Bring the pasty,” said Ralph, “and the wine.”
He gave the servant a sharp look, seemed to glance out across the hall for a moment and back again. There was no answering look on Mr. Morris’s face, but he slipped out softly, leaving the door just ajar.
Then Ralph turned to Chris again.