Sir Peter grunted again. “What did you talk of?” he demanded.

“Oh, all manner of things!” she replied easily. “He told me many—many interesting things about the Pyrenees, for instance!”

“He did, did he? Fellow sounds to me like a damned nincompoop!” said Sir Peter irascibly.

She laughed, but blushed too. “Oh, no! In fact, I fear he must cause his family the gravest anxiety with these whimsical starts of his! You, I think, would like him, sir. I have not, of course, seen him with a team, but I fancy he has good, even hands.”

“That’s as may be. But what the devil’s he doing at the tollhouse?”

“Oh, diverting himself! I think he finds life sadly flat.”

He said no more, and she picked up a newspaper, and glanced through it, knowing that although he might weary soon of conversation he liked to feel that she was in the room. She thought he had fallen into a light sleep, but he startled her suddenly by saying in an abrupt tone: “Who is the fellow you have staying in the house?”

“Henry, Grandpapa?”

“Don’t be a fool, girl—or think me one! I want none of your bamboozling! Who is he?”

“Oh, Coate!” she said indifferently. “A friend of my cousin’s.”

“Why hasn’t he been brought to see me?”

“Because I am persuaded you would give the poor man one of your famous set-downs, sir,” she replied, with great coolness. “He is not quite up to the trick, you know.”

“Then what the devil does Henry mean by bringing him to my house? Henry’s half flash and half foolish, and any friend of his is bound to be a loose fish!”

She was alarmed, for his colour was considerably heightened, and there was a note in his voice which warned her of rising temper. She said: “Oh, pray don’t send him away, sir! To be obliged to entertain my cousin would not suit me at all! I am grateful to Coate for bearing him company, and never see either of them, except at dinner.”

“What brought Henry here? What is going on in my house, Nell? By God, I will not be hoaxed and humdudgeoned! Do you take me for a child, or a lunatic?”

“No, sir, but indeed I don’t know what should be going on! You know that we settled it between us that Henry is escaping from his creditors! That was your notion, do you remember? and I am pretty sure you were right.”

He stared at her, his eyes fierce under the jutting brows. “Don’t lie to me, Nell! don’t lie to me! You’re on the fidgets—blue-devilled! They’ve cut up your peace between the pair of ’em, eh? Damme, I should have seen to it you had a respectable female to keep you company!”

“Now, that would indeed cut up my peace!” she said, laughing. “My dear sir, I cannot decide which of us would most deserve pity—me, or your respectable female! A widow, of course, and elderly, with the strictest notions of propriety! I should be the death of her!”

He beat his hand against the arm of his chair, in a gesture of fretting impotence. “There is no one to look after you. I might as well be coffined!”

She managed to possess herself of his hand, and held it between both of hers. “Dearest, this is the merest irritation of the nerves! I am beset by protectors!”

He moved his head impatiently. “Servants, servants! That won’t fadge!”

She said coaxingly: “You must not be so cross, sir: indeed, there is no reason for you to be vexed! If I needed a protector—which I assure you I do not!—I should send a message to the toll-house, and desire my military giant to come to my aid! I daresay he would be very happy to hurl out of your house anyone you chose to indicate.”

He seemed to be diverted. He looked at her intently, and she was thankful to see that the angry spots of colour in his face were fading. “He would, would he?”

“Certainly! He is a very obliging person, and has expressed his willingness to serve me at any time!” she said, with a saucy look. “And if we should feel the need of a man capable of ridding our house of invaders—which, however, I do not at all anticipate—he would be the very one for the task! I am persuaded, my dear sir, that he would mill cannisters, darken daylights, and draw corks with all the gaiety in the world! Like Hotspur, you know, in that passage which always makes you laugh! Fie upon this quiet life! I want work! is what he would say!”

He smiled rather grimly. “Baggage!” he said. “Did I teach you that language?”

“Yes, to be sure you did, and a great deal more beside!” she said merrily. This drew a laugh from him, and an adroit question putting him in mind of a contest he had once witnessed she soon had the satisfaction of seeing him restored to tranquillity. He dropped into a doze presently, and the knowledge that his memory was erratic encouraged her to hope that when he awoke he would have forgotten the episode.

It seemed as though it had indeed faded from his mind. He did not speak of it again, and she had the comfort, when she went away to change her dress for an evening-gown, of seeing him settle down to his dinner in quiet good spirits.

The relief was short-lived. Her own dinner was partaken of in the company of her cousin and Mr. Coate. She sat at the head of the big table, entirely mistress of the situation, maintaining with quelling composure a conversation of such inane propriety as must, she hoped, lead her unwanted admirer to revise his opinion of her charms. He was apparently conscious of a little awkwardness in meeting her again, and seemed anxious to reinstate himself in her good graces; but before very long he was ogling her, and paying her broad compliments expressed in terms that could only disgust. She was almost glad when these were interrupted by an outcry from her cousin against the burgundy, which he declared, with an angry look at Huby, to have been watered; but civility obliged her to desire Huby to fetch up a fresh bottle, which was not at all what she had wished to do. Then she caught sight of the butler’s face, and her vexation yielded to an almost overmastering wish to burst out laughing. Every feeling had been offended: he was looking as outraged as though he had not, in fact, committed just that crime.

The uncomfortable meal dragged on; she rose at last from the table, and was about to retire to the sanctuary of Sir Peter’s room when the hopes she had been cherishing were shattered by the entrance of Winkfield into the room, with a message from his master. Sir Peter, he announced, begged that Mr. Coate would do him the honour of drinking a glass of brandy with him.

Nell gazed aghast at the valet, but he very slightly shook his head. She knew her grandfather well enough to guess that Winkfield judged it to be more dangerous to oppose his will than to permit Coate to be seen by him. She turned her eyes towards Coate, and said as calmly as she could: “I must beg you, sir, not to linger in my grandfather’s room. I need not remind you, I daresay, that he is a sick man.”

“Oh, don’t fear me!” he said, with one of his loud laughs. “I shall be very happy to visit Sir Peter—famous sportsman, wasn’t he? We shall deal capitally!”

In an agony, she watched him precede Winkfield out of the room. Her cousin’s voice broke into her agitated thoughts. “I must say I’m deuced glad the old gentleman’s sent for Nat!” Henry said, refilling his glass. “I wonder he shouldn’t have done so before, for it’s only civil, after all. What’s more, it’ll do him good. He’ll like Nat: you see if he don’t! Nat’s devilish good company—just the man to cheer the old gentleman up!”

“Just the man to kill him!” she said, in a shaking voice. “One look at him will be enough to throw him into a passion! How could you bring such a creature into this house? how could you?”

“Oh, pooh, you know nothing of the matter! My grandfather likes a good sportsman, and Nat’s a buck of the first head! Up to every rig and row in town, too. They’ll go along like winking!”

She could not trust herself to answer him, but hurried out of the room, bent on warning Rose of what might at any moment befall. Her way led her past her grandfather’s apartments, and, after hesitating for a moment, she softly opened the door into the dressing-room, and looked in. Winkfield was there, and greeted her with a smile of reassurance. He said in a low voice: “You need not be afraid, miss. I fancy Sir Peter does not mean to lose his temper with that person. Remarkably calm, he is.”

“It must do harm!” she whispered. “You know how much he dislikes men of Coate’s stamp! I am fearful of what the consequences may be! Could you not have prevented it?”

“It seemed to me, miss, that once the master had formed a determination to see Mr. Coate it would be wiser to do as he bade me. He will not be opposed. And to fob him off with excuses would be to set up the very irritation to his nerves which Dr. Bacup has particularly warned us against.”

She sighed, listening anxiously to the sound of voices in the room beyond. “You will not go out of earshot, Winkfield?”

“I shall not leave this room, miss. We cannot but be uneasy, but I fancy Mr. Coate is comporting himself as well as he knows how, besides being set a little in awe of the master.”

It was true. Coate, ushered formally into Sir Peter’s room, was indeed a trifle over-awed. He had a disconcerting feeling that he had been granted an audience, and the immobility of the gaunt figure in the wing-chair did nothing to dispel this. As he stood for a moment on the threshold, unusually uncertain of himself, he was aware of being scanned from head to foot by a pair of eyes, deep-sunken, but as hard and as fierce as an eagle’s. He began, without knowing it, to fidget with the elaborate folds of his neckcloth. A hand the colour of parchment found, and raised to one eye, a quizzing-glass. It was levelled at him; he thought all at once that the room was overheated. The glass was allowed to fall. “How do you do?” Sir Peter said courteously. “You must forgive my inability to rise from this chair, Mr. Coate.”