The only evidence of surprise which he gave was a half-whistle, which he suppressed almost as soon as it escaped him. He immediately returned to his store and shut himself up in his private office. There he sat down and reflected as follows:
“What can this mean? Carlos is the son of old Anthony, and the colonel hates him worse than death. It can’t be that they’ve become reconciled. That would be impossible. The game was played too well and has gone on smoothly too long for that. But what can his son be doing here? and his cousin with him, too!”
Mr. Haywood’s manner, now that he was unobserved, lost something of its calm and unruffled exterior. He got up and paced the room, evidently much disturbed in mind.
“By Heaven!” he thought, “I must find out the object of this visit. There is too much at stake to be off guard a moment. If the old man should find out the part I took in his quarrel with his brother, I would in all likelihood be disturbed in my present snug berth. That cannot be the object of Carlos, though. The colonel will never see him. He will not speak to him when he finds out that he is Anthony’s son. Ha, ha! my young boy, if you have come here expecting to win favor from Colonel Conrad, you are most grandly mistaken. I can give you that information without your taking the trouble to walk out to his house. I’ll watch you.”
The next day he observed, of course, that the two cousins called at Elm Grove, and it was with a feeling of almost terror that he noticed that they did not return for more than two hours. So disturbed with conjectures and suspicions was he that he resolved to call on Colonel Conrad at once, to satisfy the burning curiosity that tortured him.
Accordingly, in the afternoon, he set out for Elm Grove, not hurrying in the least, although so tumultuous were the feelings that raged within his breast that he would have run at the top of his speed had he acted on his natural impulse. But to act on impulse was not part of Geoffrey Haywood’s life. His policy was to be always calm, self-possessed, and unapproachable, except so far as he chose to be approached. Consequently he walked with his usual stately gait, and when he presented himself at the door of Colonel Conrad’s mansion, his manner betrayed naught but complacency and a kind of obtrusive quietness.
To the servant who answered his ring, he said:
“Ah, Barker, good afternoon. Is your master in?”
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