“I hope you won't mention it, though,” said Thorpe, as they shook hands; “either that or--or anything else.”
“I shall preserve the most guarded--the most diplomatic secrecy,” his Lordship assured him, as they walked toward the door.
Thorpe opened this door, and stepped aside, with a half bow, to facilitate the exit of the Marquis, who bent gracious acknowledgment of the courtesy. Then, with an abrupt start of surprise, the two men straightened themselves. Directly in front of them, leaning lightly against the brass-rail which guarded the entrance to the Board Room, stood Lord Plowden.
A certain sense of confusion, unwelcome but inevitable, visibly enveloped this chance meeting. The Marquis blinked very hard as he exchanged a fleeting hand-shake with the younger nobleman, and murmured some indistinguishable commonplaces. Then, with a graceful celerity, which was more than diplomatic, he disappeared. Thorpe, with more difficulty, recovered a sort of stolidity of expression that might pass for composure. He in turn gave his hand to the newcomer, and nodded to him, and achieved a doubtful smile.
“Come in!” he said, haltingly. “Where did you drop from? Glad to see you! How are all your people?”
A moment later the young Viscount was seated in the chair which the elderly Marquis had vacated. He presented therein a figure which, in its way, was perhaps as courtly as the other had been--but the way was widely different. Lord Plowden's fine, lithe form expressed no deference in its easy postures. His handsome face was at no pains to assume conciliatory or ingratiating aspects. His brilliant brown eyes sparkled a confident, buoyant gaze full into the heavy, lethargic countenance of the big man at the desk.
“I haven't bothered you before,” he said, tossing his gloves into his hat, and spreading his frock-coat out by its silk lapels. He crossed his legs, and sat back with a comfortable smile. “I knew you were awfully busy--and I kept away as long as I could. But now--well, the truth is--I'm in rather of a hole. I hope you don't mind my coming.”
“Why not at all,” said Thorpe, laconically. After a momentary pause he added: “The Marquis has just been consulting me about the postponement of the annual meeting. I suppose you agree with us--that it would be better to put it off. There's really nothing to report. Of course, you know more about the situation than he does--between ourselves. The shareholders don't want a meeting; it's enough for them that their shares are worth fifteen or twenty times what they paid for them. And certainly WE don't need a meeting, as things stand now.”