Just then there was an interruption. A messenger had arrived from Lant
Hall. The Rev. Dudley was not expected to live through the night, and
particularly wished to see Mr Santorex.
"Phew-w!" whistled the latter. "I suppose I must go. What on earth can
he want to talk to me about? Perhaps it's about you, Rupert."
"Maybe it is," replied the latter, puffing out a cloud of smoke with as
complete nonchalance as though they were discussing the weather. And
George Santorex, junior, furtively watching the unconcerned, relentless
face, thought he could well understand the reputation which this man had
set up in those Western wilds which had been for so many years their
common home.