As I entered, the talking ceased. I saw no face except his and that seemed blank.
"Vaughn Steele, Ranger—come to see you, sir." I announced.
Did Sampson start—did his eyes show a fleeting glint—did his face almost imperceptibly blanch? I could not have sworn to either. But there was a change, maybe from surprise.
The first sure effect of my announcement came in a quick exclamation from Wright, a sibilant intake of breath, that did not seem to denote surprise so much as certainty. Wright might have emitted a curse with less force.
Sampson moved his hand significantly and the action was a voiceless command for silence as well as an assertion that he would attend to this matter. I read him clearly so far. He had authority, and again I felt his power.
"Steele to see me. Did he state his business?"
"No, sir." I replied.
"Russ, say I'm not at home," said Sampson presently, bending over to relight his pipe.
I went out. Someone slammed the door behind me.
As I strode back across the porch my mind worked swiftly; the machinery had been idle for a while and was now started.