Then I turned to get my hat and coat. I looked into the drawing room to give Mr. Downes one more chance. He had been talking to his son in a low voice, but with emphasis; and I could see by Paul’s countenance that the “calling down” he had received from his father was a serious one.
“I warn you for the last time, Mr. Downes, that I am going to Justice of the Peace Ringold just as soon as the doctor gets here to attend my mother,” I said.
“You don’t dare do any such thing, you young scoundrel!” roared Mr. Chester Downes, and he actually sprang across the room at me. He was a tall and bony man and I knew very well that I should fare ill in his hands. I dodged back, found the imperturbable James in my way and as I sidestepped him, too, Mr. Downes came face to face with the impassive butler in the doorway.
“Beg pardon, sir,” James said, quietly. “Hamilton has the horses harnessed and awaits your pleasure, sir.”
“You—you—” stammered Mr. Downes, evidently as much surprised that the butler had obeyed me as I could possibly be!
“The carriage is waiting, sir,” explained James, just as though the occasion was an ordinary one. “Shall I bring down your bags, sir?”
“No! I don’t want our bags brought down!” cried Mr. Downes. “This is an outrage. And let me tell you, you dunderhead,” he added to James, “this will cost you your position.”
The butler’s voice did not change in the least. “Shall I bring down your bags, sir?” he asked once more.
“Yes!” cried Mr. Downes, changing his mind very suddenly. “We will go up and pack them. But this is a sorry day for this house when we leave it in such a way,” he said, his threat hissing through his clenched teeth as his glowing eyes sought my face in the hall. “And it is a sorry day for you, you young villain! Remember this.”
“You threaten a good deal like your son, Mr. Downes,” I said, unable to resist a mild “gloat.” “But he couldn’t carry out his threat; I wonder if you will be better able to compass your revenge?”