The old butler opened the door. He turned back as Henry entered, pointing to the dark and empty hall as though that stood for all that he could say.
"Well?" said Henry. "Is there any news yet?"
"Sir Charles died under the operation. . . . Her ladyship has just been rung up----"
"I can't believe it," he said. "I can't believe it. . . . It isn't natural! Such a few good ones in the world. It isn't right." He stood as though he were lost, fingering the visiting-cards on the table. He suddenly raised dull imperceptive eyes to Henry! "They can say what they like about new times coming and all being equal. . . . There'll be masters all the same and not another like Sir Charles. Good he was, good all through." He faded away.
Henry went upstairs. He was so lost that he stood in the library looking about him and wondering who that was at the long table. It was Herbert Spencer with his packets of letters and his bright red tape.
The books across that wide space echoed: "Sir Charles is dead."
Herbert Spencer looked at the letters in his hand, let them drop, glanced up.
"Oh, I say! I'm sorry! . . . Oh dear!" he got up, staring at the distant bookshelves. "After the operation?"
"Dear, dear. And I thought in these days they were clever enough for anything." He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "Not much use going on working to-day, I suppose?"
"Not much use going on working to-day, I suppose?" he repeated.
"You'll be carrying the letters on, I suppose?" he said.
"Well, you see, it's like this. I've got my regular work I'll have to be getting back to it if this isn't going on. I was put on to this until it was finished, but if it isn't going to be finished, then I'd like to know you see----"
"Of course it's going to be finished," said Henry suddenly.
"And I'll tell you this," said Henry, suddenly shouting, "it's going to be finished splendidly too. It's going to be better than you can imagine. And you're going to work harder and I'm going to work harder than we've ever done in our lives. It's going to be the best thing that's ever been. . . . It's all we can do," he added, suddenly dropping his voice.
"All right," said Herbert Spencer calmly. "I'll come to-morrow then. What I mean to say is that it isn't any use my staying to-day."