There was only one thing to do, he concluded, and that was to continue doing his work at the office as best he could till the crash came. It could not be long in coming, he reflected with indescribable bitterness, for was not Morris Thornton already overdue?
He had scarcely got seated in his own room when his son Ernest came in, and remarked that Mr. Silwood had gone for a holiday.
"I had not heard that he intended going," he went on; "in fact, I was astonished to hear of his taking a holiday just now. Mr. Williamson tells me he has left for the Continent."
"Yes," said Francis Eversleigh, somewhat vacantly, "he has gone for a holiday. I suppose I have forgotten to mention to you that he was going abroad for a while," he continued, pulling himself together. "He has not had a holiday for some years."
"I see. By-the-way," said Ernest, "who in his absence is to look after his department?"
"I'll do so myself," observed the other, quietly.
"But, father," objected Ernest, "you are not well enough——"
"Oh, yes, I am," protested Eversleigh. "I'll attend to it myself, my boy."
"Why not let me do it?"
"I had rather not," answered his father, sharply; "I prefer to do it myself."