The sound of the piano upstairs came intermittently to
his ears. Often he ascended to the drawing-room to hear
Julia play--and more often still, with all the doors open,
he enjoyed the mellowed murmur of her music here at his ease
in the big chair. But tonight he had no joy in the noise.
more than once, as he slouched restlessly round the room,
the notion of asking her to stop suggested itself,
but he forbore to put it into action. Once he busied
himself for a time in kneeling before his safe,
and scrutinizing in detail the papers in one of the bundles
it contained.
At last--it was after ten o'clock, and the music above had
ceased--the welcome sounds of cab-wheels without, and then
of the door-bell, came to dispel his fidgeting suspense.
On the instant he straightened himself, and his face
rearranged its expression. He fastened upon the door
of the room the controlled, calm glance of one who is
easily confident about what is to happen.
"Quaker-looking" was not an inapt phrase for the person
whom the maid ushered into the room through this door.
He was a small, thin, elderly man, bowed of figure and
shuffling in gait. His coat and large, low-crowned hat,
though worn almost to shabbiness, conveyed an indefinable sense
of some theological standard, or pretence to such a standard.
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