I stopped
with Melville to talk Coal for a few minutes--at my ease, and the last man
on earth to be suspected of hanging by the crook of one finger from the
edge of the precipice.
I rang the Ellerslys' bell at half-past nine that evening. The butler faced
me with eyes not down, as they should have been, but on mine, and full
of the servile insolence to which he had been prompted by what he had
overheard in the family.
"Not at home, sir," he said, though I had not spoken.
I was preoccupied and not expecting that statement; neither had I skill,
nor desire to acquire skill, in reading family barometers in the faces of
servants. So, I was for brushing past him and entering where I felt I had
as much right as in my own places. He barred the way.
"Beg pardon, sir. Mrs. Ellersly instructed me to say no one was at home."
I halted, but only like an oncoming bear at the prick of an arrow.
"What the hell does this mean?" I exclaimed, waving him aside. At that
instant Anita appeared from the little reception-room a few feet away.
"Oh--come in!" she said cordially. "I was expecting you. Burroughs, please
take Mr. Blacklock's hat."
I followed her into the reception-room, thinking the butler had made some
sort of mistake.
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