Arranmore glanced once more at the card between his
fingers.
"Mr. Kingston Brooks."
He stood for a few seconds, motionless. Then he rang the bell.
"Show Mr. Brooks in here," he directed.
CHAPTER VII
A THOUSAND POUNDS
Brooks had ridden a bicycle from Medchester, and his trousers and boots
were splashed with mud. His presence at Enton was due to an impulse,
the inspiration of which he had already begun seriously to doubt.
Arranmore's kindly reception of him was more than ordinarily welcome.
"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Brooks," he said, holding out his hand.
"How comes it that you are able to take even so short a holiday as this?
I pictured you surrounded by canvassers and bill-posters and
journalists, all clamouring for your ear."
Brooks laughed, completely at his ease now, thanks to the unspoken
cordiality of the other man. He took the easy-chair which the servant
had noiselessly wheeled up to him.
"I am afraid that you exaggerate my importance,--Lord Arranmore," he
said. "I was very busy early this morning, and I shall be again after
four.
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