Crossing the hall, Jeffray went into the great salon that had been of old the prior’s parlor, and rang the bell for Peter Gladden. The butler, curious behind his respectful suavity, entered, to stare inquisitively at his master’s white and determined face. The sword that had pierced Lot’s body lay naked upon the table.
“Gladden.”
The butler bowed.
“Tell your wife to prepare the best bedroom. See that everything is in order.”
“Your servant, sir.”
“Mrs. Elizabeth Grimshaw is to be my guest. Your wife must wait on her in person. Let her meals be served her in her bedroom. Your wife, Gladden, must sleep in the dressing-room that opens from Mrs. Grimshaw’s room. Understand me in this, Gladden, that every command must be obeyed.”
The butler, astonished, but too well disciplined to betray the feeling, bowed again to his master and appeared all deference and submission.
“Gladden.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let one single piece of disrespect be shown to this lady, and you and your wife are dismissed from my service instantly.”