Everard hardly knew whether to go or stay. A minute later, Sir Gilbert was himself again. “I am much obliged to you, Lisle,” he said, “for the trouble you have taken in this wretched affair. Tell my grandson to come to me in the library at ten o’clock to-morrow. Till then I have no wish to set eyes on him.”
When Everard got back to his rooms he found Luigi still sleeping soundly, and so left him for the night. But it was certainly a surprise to him when, on going down next morning between seven and eight o’clock, he found the room empty and his guest gone.
Shortly after daybreak Luigi had woke up with a splitting headache. As soon as he had pulled his wits together and called to mind where he was, he proceeded to empty the carafe of water which Lisle had considerately placed within his reach. Then he sat for a long time with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands. His heart sank within him when he thought of the inevitable interview with his grandfather which could not much longer be delayed, for he had strong doubts as to the amount of credence Sir Gilbert would accord to the story of his sudden illness. That he would be subjected to a severe wigging and have certain penalties of a more or less disagreeable kind imposed on him, he did not doubt; but he anticipated nothing worse than that. He had, however, another cause for disquietude which, as it seemed to him, might not improbably entail results far more dire. He was nearly sure that, in the course of the previous evening, he had made Miss Jennings an offer of his hand and heart, but whether she had accepted or repulsed him, or had merely treated his offer as a foolish joke, he could not for the life of him remember. But what if she had taken his offer seriously and, in the event of his repudiating it, which he would be absolutely bound to do, were to seek out his grandfather and pour her story into his ears! The consequences of her doing so were too terrifying to contemplate. “Oh, what an idiot I must have been!” he groaned more than once.
Somehow this morning he did not care to face Lisle; so, after a time he let himself out of the house and bent his steps towards the town. He entered the first hairdresser’s shop he came to, where he had what is termed a “wash and brush-up,” after which he felt considerably refreshed. Next to a chemist’s where he called for and drank off at a draught a certain effervescing mixture which was warranted as an infallible “pick-me-up.” After that he thought he would take a turn by the river and try to find an appetite for breakfast. Very careful was he not to go near the King’s Head and Miss Jennings.
By this it was past nine o’clock and time for him to turn his face homeward. He had scarcely gone a dozen yards from the inn when he saw Mr. Kinaby’s groom, whom he knew by sight, coming towards him on horseback. On nearing him the man reined up and carrying a finger to his forehead, said: “I’ve bin lookin’ for you all over the town, sir. I’ve a note for you from Mr. Lisle.”
Luigi took the note and tore it open. It was merely a line. “Your grandfather wants to see you in the library at ten o’clock.—E. L.”
“All right,” said Luigi with a nod to the man. “Tell. Mr. Lisle it shall be attended to.”
CHAPTER XXXII.
SIR GILBERT’S DECISION
Luigi, as he turned the handle of the library door, felt that he would have given something to know what had passed between Lisle and his grandfather overnight. Had the former succeeded in convincing Sir Gilbert that his absence from home was due to a sudden attack of illness, or had he allowed his grandfather to become acquainted with the real facts of the case? His uncertainty on the point was dispelled by Sir Gilbert’s first words.
“So, sir, you have recovered sufficiently from your last night’s debauch to allow of your coming to see me,” he said, taking him in through his contracted lids from head to foot.