"You may go."
The small gray eyes in the pock-pitted face stole toward young
Berkley, then were cautiously lowered.
"Very well, sir," he said.
"Close the drawing-room doors. No—this way. Go out through the pantry. And take Pim with you."
"Very well, sir."
"And, Larraway!"
"Sir?"
"When I want you I'll ring. Until then I don't want anybody or anything. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"That is all."