Then slowly
the old man reopened the little drawer at his elbow, took thence the
shagreen case, and pushed it toward Faversham.
Faversham replaced it in his breast pocket.
"Thank you. Now, Mr. Melrose, I should advise you to go to bed. Your
health is not strong enough to stand these disputes. Shall I call Dixon?
As soon as possible my accounts shall be in your hands."
"Leave the room, sir!" cried Melrose, choking with rage, and motioning
toward the door.
On the threshold Faversham turned, and gave one last look at the dark
figure of Melrose, and the medley of objects surrounding it; at Madame
Elisabeth's Sevres vases, on the upper shelf of the Riesener table; at
the Louis Seize clock, on the panelled wall, which was at that moment
striking eight.
As he closed the door behind him, he was aware of Dixon who had just
entered the gallery from the servants' quarters. The old butler hurried
toward him to ask if he should announce dinner. "Not for me," said
Faversham; "you had better ask Mr. Melrose. To-morrow, Dixon, I shall be
leaving this house--for good."
Dixon stared, his face working:
"I thowt--I heard yo'--" he said, and paused.
"You heard us disputing. Mr. Melrose and I have had a quarrel. Bring me
something to my room, when you have looked after him. I will come and
speak to you later."
Faversham walked down the gallery to his own door. He had to pass on the
way a splendid Nattier portrait of Marie Leczinska which had arrived only
that morning from Paris, and was standing on the floor, leaning sideways
against a chair, as Melrose had placed it himself, so as to get a good
light on it.
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