"Mr. Moreton would like to see you, sir."
Even Cord's calm was a little disturbed by this unexpected news.
"Mr. Moreton!" he exclaimed. "Not--not--not--not?"
"No, sir," said Tomes, always in possession of accurate information.
"His brother, I believe."
"Show him in here," said Cord, and added to Eddie, as Tomes left the
room: "Well, here he is--the editor himself, Eddie. You can say it all
to him."
"I don't want to see such fellows," Verriman began.
"Stay and protect me, Eddie. He may have a bomb in his pocket."
"You don't really believe that he's come to--"
"No, Eddie, I don't. I think he's come like young Lochinvar--to dance
a little late at the wedding. To try to persuade me to accept that
lazy, good-looking brother of his as a son-in-law. He'll have quite a
job over that." Then, as the door opened, Mr. Cord's eyes concentrated
on it and his manner became a shade sharper. "Ah, Mr. Moreton, good
morning. Mr. Verriman--Mr. Moreton."
Ben was a good-looking young man, but it was his expression--at once
illuminated and determined--that made him unusual. And the effect of
his night and morning had been to intensify this, so that now, as he
stood a moment in the doorway, he was a very attractive and compelling
figure.
"I came to see my brother, Mr. Cord," he said, simply, "but I hear
he's not here any more. If I could speak to you alone for a few
minutes--" He glanced at Eddie, whom he instantly recognized as the
man who had not known how to talk to the woman in the world best worth
talking to.
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