In the midst of this gloomy retrospect the coupe stopped with a jerk
before his own house. The door was quickly opened by a servant, who
appeared to be awaiting him.
"Some one to see you in the library, sir," said the man, "and"--He
hesitated and looked towards the coupe.
"Well?" said Clarence impatiently.
"He said, sir, as how you were not to send away the carriage."
"Indeed, and who is it?" demanded Clarence sharply.
"Mr. Hooker. He said I was to say Jim Hooker."
The momentary annoyance in Clarence's face changed to a look of
reflective curiosity.
"He said he knew you were at the theatre, and he would wait until you
came home," continued the man, dubiously watching his master's face. "He
don't know you've come in, sir, and--and I can easily get rid of him."
"No matter now. I'll see him, and," added Clarence, with a faint smile,
"let the carriage wait."
Yet, as he turned towards the library he was by no means certain that
an interview with the old associate of his boyhood under Judge Peyton's
guardianship would divert his mind. Yet he let no trace of his doubts
nor of his past gloom show in his face as he entered the room.
Mr. Hooker was apparently examining the elegant furniture and luxurious
accommodation with his usual resentful enviousness.
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