CHAPTER IV


A SESSION OF CHAT

The whisper grew distinct in words.

"Peters, you old numskull, come here!"

The approach of Peters was something like the sidewise waddle of a very
aged crab. He looked to the north, but his feet carried him to the east.
That he was much moved was attested by the colour which had mounted even
to the gleaming expanse of that nobly bald head.

"Yes, Master Anthony--I mean Mr. Anthony?"

He set his teeth at the _faux pas_.

"Peters, look at me. Confound it, I haven't murdered any one. Are you
busy?"

It required whole seconds for the eyes to wheel round upon Anthony, and
they were immediately debased from the telltale white of that leg to the
floor.

"No, sir."

"Then come up with me and help me change. Quick!"

He turned and fled noiselessly up the great stairs, with Peters panting