“The servant threw open the door and announced him, and my friend went through, and the door closed behind him: but the moment he had crossed the threshold he felt that something was wrong.
“There was a circle of men, some in shooting costume, and some as if they had not been out all day, sitting in easy chairs round the fire, which was to the right of the door. My friend could see most of their faces, and Lord B.’s face among them, as he paused at the door; but not one offered to move, though all looked curiously at him.
“There was silence for a moment, and then Lord B. said suddenly and loudly:
“‘Well, here’s the parson at last, sermon and all.’
“And then two or three of the men laughed.
“My friend saw of course that Lord B. had arranged the interview in this way simply in order to insult him, and that he would not be able to speak to him in private at all, as he had hoped. There was, he told me, just one great heave of anger in his heart at this offensive behaviour; but he did his best to crush it down, and still stood without speaking. He had not, he said, an idea what to say or do, so he stood and waited.
“Lord B. got up in a moment and lit a cigarette with his back to my friend; and then turned and faced him, leaning against the mantelpiece.
“‘Well,’ he said, ‘we’re all waiting.’
“Still there was silence. One of the men beyond the fire suddenly laughed.
“‘Now then,’ said Lord B. impatiently, ‘for God’s sake say what you came to say, and go.’