The door was opened by an old man-servant. He peered in wonder at the shabby-looking stranger, who stepped so unquestioningly within those gloomy portals.
"Is his lordship in town?" asked the intruder. "Why, Thorndyke! It is surely Thorndyke?"
"Yes, I am Thorndyke," said the man. "But I don't think I know you, sir. Let me see."
He turned on the electric light into the front part of the hall, and brought his dim old eyes nearer to Mr. Graydon's face.
"Why, it is Master Archie!" he said quaveringly. "Master Archie after all those years! And how are you, sir? Are you well?"
"Quite well, Thorndyke. Can I see my uncle? I want very particularly to see him."
"He's none too pleasant," whispered the old man. "He has a touch of gout, and the little master's been ill. They've ordered him to Cannes."
"Indeed! I'm sorry for that. I thought he was a hearty little chap."
"So he was, so he was, till a few months gone. He's never recovered a heavy chill he took at the beginning of the winter. His lordship's bound up in him, and it do fret him to see Master Lance dwindle."
"Ah! I am very sorry," said Mr. Graydon, and a cloud came over his face. "I am sorry for the boy and for his lordship, too. Health is a great blessing, Thorndyke."
"It is, indeed, sir. I am glad you have yours. Come in here, sir, and I'll let his lordship know."
He opened the door of a room lined with books in heavy bindings, and motioned Mr. Graydon to enter. The atmosphere was close and warm, though the fire was low in the grate. But Mr. Graydon did not notice that his wet coat was steaming, and that he felt damply and uncomfortably warm. He had other things to think of.
Presently the door was sharply opened, and a red-faced, irascible-looking old man came in. He glared fiercely at his visitor as he hobbled to a chair.
"Well, Archibald," he said, using the name as if it were distasteful to him. "To what am I indebted for the honour of your visit after all those years?"
"I would have come before, sir, but for your own words."
"I'm not unsaying my words. They are as good now as they were then."
"Twenty-five years is a long time. Can't you forget and forgive?"
"I neither forget nor forgive. You did me an injury past forgiveness."