Part 9 (2/2)

It was hardly his fault that he stumbled over the visitor who, whether in awe or fear of these unveiled splendours, had retreated as far as possible toward the door.

”Don't mind me!” said the visitor meekly.

”Willits! by Jove, I thought it would be you! Say, would you mind not sitting on that chair? It's just glued!”

The visitor arose with conspicuous alacrity. He was a tall man with a domelike head, piercing eyes and formidable nose. Ann's description had been terribly accurate. He observed the tail of his coat carefully and finding no damage, seemed relieved.

”Sit here,” said Callandar affably. ”And don't expect me to make you welcome, because you aren't. What misfortunate chance has brought you to Coombe?”

”Neither fortune nor chance had anything at all to do with it,” declared the visitor. ”I followed your luggage. I wanted to see you.”

”Well, take a good look.”

”I think you can guess why.”

”Yes,” with a sigh. ”I was always a good guesser. And, frankly, Willits, I wish you hadn't.”

”I do not doubt it. But, first, is there any other place where we can talk?”

”Don't you like this?” innocently.

The b.u.t.ton-Moulder's look of surprised anguish was sufficient answer.

Callandar laughed.

”You always were a bit narrow in your views, Willits. How often have I impressed upon you that beauty depends upon understanding? I don't suppose you have even tried to understand this room? No? Will it help any if I tell you that Mrs. Sykes went without a spring bonnet that she might purchase the deep gold frame which enshrines Victoria the Good, or if I explain that Joseph Sykes, deceased, whose name you see yonder upon that engraved plate, was the most worthless rogue unhung. Yet the silver which displays--”

”Not in the least,” interrupted the other hastily. ”The place is a nightmare. Nothing can excuse it! And you--how you stand it I cannot see.”

”My dear man, I don't stand it. I am not allowed to. It's only upon special occasions that any one is allowed to stand this room. You are a special occasion. But as you seem so unappreciative we can adjourn to my office if you wish.”

”You have an office?”

”Certainly. A doctor has to have an office. This way.”

Callandar strode across the room and opened a door in the opposite wall.

It led into another room, smaller, with no veranda in front of it, yet with a window looking toward the road and two side windows through which the after flush of sunrise streamed. Its door opened upon a small stone stoop set in the gra.s.s of the front lawn. The furniture of the room was plain, not to say severe. Cool matting covered the painted floor, hemst.i.tched curtains of linen scrim hung at the windows. There was a businesslike desk, a couch, a reclining chair, a stool by the door; another chair, straight and uncompromising, behind the desk. That was all.

Willits looked around him in a kind of dazed surprise. ”Office!” he kept murmuring. ”_Office_!”

”All rather plain, you see,” said Callandar regretfully. ”But for a beginner with his way to make, not so bad. My patients, three up to date, quite understand and conceal their commiseration with perfect good breeding. Also, the room has natural advantages, it is in the nature of an annex, you see, with a door of its own. Quite cut off from the rest of the house save-for the door by which we entered, the parlour door, which Mrs. Sykes informs me I may lock if I choose although she feels sure that I know her too well to imagine any undue liberties being taken!”

The b.u.t.ton-Moulder with a gesture of despair made as if to sit down upon the nearest chair, but was prevented with kindly firmness by his host.

”Not that chair, please. It may not be quite dry. I glued--”

The voice of the visitor suddenly returned. It was a very dry voice; threadlike, but determined.

”Then if you will kindly find me a chair which you have not glued I shall sit down and dispose of a few burning thoughts. Callandar, as soon as you have finished playing the fool--”

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