An instant later Mr. Carson Wildred had appeared at the door. I got up as he showed himself, and advanced towards him, keenly watching his face. It had been alert at first, as though he were anxious to ascertain who the visitor could be; then, as he identified me, for the fraction of a second a fire of fierce anger blazed in his pale eyes. Before I could more than convince myself that it had actually been there, however, it was gone. He came towards me, smiling cordially, and holding out his hand.
"How do you do, Mr. Stanton?" he said. "This is an unexpected pleasure, after your refusal of our invitation last night, but none the less delightful. I suppose I'm rather late in wishing you a merry Christmas? But better late than never, you know!"
"Thank you," I returned, grudging the necessity for taking the man's hand. It was cold as ice, and he remarked upon it, laughing.
"Rather a chilly welcome that," he exclaimed; "but I've just come in from a walk, and we've very seasonable weather, as they call it, to-day. My butler–the best and most methodical of chaps, by the way–is in a frightful state because you have been annoyed, it seems, while you have been waiting for me. So sorry to have kept you. Accident in the kitchen, it seems. Hope it won't interfere with our getting a decent dinner to-night, for of course you'll stay?"
I fabricated an engagement for the evening on the spot, and explained how I had felt like spending an afternoon in the country, and seeing what the river looked like at Christmas time.
"I've only a few minutes to stay, really," I said, "for I've set my heart on walking back to Marlow. Farnham knows I'm here, I suppose?"
"Oh, that's the pity of it," he ejaculated. "Farnham's away, after all. You know what an erratic fellow he is? Well, he got tired of business, and not dreaming you would come, ran into town to dine with some people who had asked him the other day. The fact is, I fancy there's a fair lady in the case. But he did say something about looking you up at the Savoy, if he had time, and as trains are bad to-day, he meant to spend the night in town."
As Wildred went volubly on with his apologies and explanations, I did not take my eyes from his face. It was as open and candid in expression as a face of his peculiar type could be, and yet, though there was no earthly reason why I should disbelieve anything he had said, there was a vague doubt in my mind as uncomfortable to bear as a haunting sense of guilt.