Five minutes later, Archie Ridsdale burst abruptly into the room. ‘Here’s a pretty go!’ he exclaimed. ‘Read this, please, dear Madame De Vigne,’ putting a telegram into her hand.
Madame De Vigne took it and read: ‘“From Beck and Beck, Bedford Row, London.”’
‘The guv’s lawyers,’ explained Archie.
‘“To Archibald Ridsdale, Palatine Hotel, Windermere.—We are instructed to request you to be at our office at ten A.M. to-morrow, to meet Sir William Ridsdale.”’
Mora looked at him as she gave him back the telegram.
‘The last train for town,’ said Archie, ‘leaves in twenty-five minutes. My man is cramming a few things into a bag, and I must start for the station at once.’
‘Were you not aware that your father had arrived from the continent?’
‘This is the first intimation I’ve had of it. You know how anxiously I’ve been expecting an answer to the second letter I wrote him nearly a month ago.’
‘It would seem from the telegram that he prefers a personal interview.’
‘I’m glad of it for some things. He has never refused me anything when I’ve had the chance of talking to him, and I don’t suppose he will refuse what I shall undoubtedly ask him to-morrow.’