Part 62 (2/2)

As the echo of George's footsteps died away on the stairs, Mr. Brompton, first slipping the bolt of the door which led into the clerk's room, opened the door of another room. A double door, thoroughly well padded, deadened all sound between the apartments. It was a larger and more luxurious room still. Two gentlemen were seated in it by a similarly bright fire: though, to look at the face of the one--a young man, whose handkerchief, as it lay carelessly on the table beside him, bore a viscount's coronet--no one would have thought any fire was needed. His face was glowing, and he was talking in angry excitement, but with a tone and manner somewhat subdued, as if he were in the presence of a master, and dared not put forth his metal. In short, he looked something like a caged lion. Opposite to him, listening with cold, imperturbable courtesy, his face utterly impa.s.sive, as it ever was, his eyes calm, his yellow hair in perfect order, his moustache trimmed, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair, and the tips of his fingers meeting, on one of which fingers shone a monster diamond of the purest water, was Mr.

Verrall. Early as the hour was, gla.s.ses and champagne stood on the table.

Mr. Brompton telegraphed a sign to Mr. Verrall, and he came out, leaving the viscount to waste his anger upon air. The viscount might rely on one thing: that it was just as good to bestow it upon air as upon Mr.

Verrall, for all the impression it would make on the latter.

”G.o.dolphin has been here,” said Mr. Brompton, keeping the doors, carefully closed.

”He has followed me to town, then! I thought he might do so. It is of no use my seeing him. If he won't go deeper into the mire, why, the explosion must come.”

”He must go deeper into it,” remarked Mr. Brompton.

”He holds out against it, and words seem wasted on him. Where's he gone now?”

”Down to your house, I expect. He says he must be back home to-day, but must see you first. I thought you would not care to meet him, so I said I didn't know whether you'd be here or not.”

Mr. Verrall mused. ”Yes, I'll see him. I can't deal with him altogether as I do with others. And he has been a lucky card to us.”

Mr. Verrall went back to his viscount, who by that time was striding explosively up and down the room. Mr. Brompton sat down to his paper again, and his interesting news of the Insolvency Court.

In one of the most charming villas on the banks of the Thames, a villa which literally lacked nothing that money could buy, sat Mrs. Verrall at a late breakfast, on that same morning. She jumped up with a little scream at the sight of George G.o.dolphin crossing the velvet lawn.

”What bad news have you come to tell me? Is Charlotte killed? Or is Lady G.o.dolphin's Folly on fire?”

”Charlotte was well when I left her, and the Folly standing,” replied George, throwing care momentarily to the winds, as he was sure to do in the presence of a pretty woman.

”She _will_ be killed, you know, some day with those horses of hers,”

rejoined Mrs. Verrall. ”What have you come for, then, at this unexpected hour? When Verrall arrived last night, he said you were giving a dinner at Prior's Ash.”

”I want to see Verrall. Is he up yet?”

”Up! He was up and away ages before I awoke. He went up early to the office.”

George paused. ”I have been to the office, and Mr. Brompton said he did not know whether he would be there to-day at all.”

”Oh, well, _I_ don't know,” returned Mrs. Verrall, believing she might have made an inconvenient admission. ”When he goes up to town, I a.s.sume he goes to the office; but he may be bound to the wilds of Siberia for anything I can tell.”

”When do you expect him home?” asked George.

”I did not ask him,” carelessly replied Mrs. Verrall. ”It may be to-day, or it may be next month. What will you take for breakfast?”

”I will not take anything,” returned George, holding out his hand to depart.

”But you are not going again in this hasty manner! What sort of a visit do you call this?”

”A hasty one,” replied George. ”I must be at Prior's Ash this afternoon.

Any message to Charlotte?”

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