"Besides," said Robert, "I have not the slightest doubt that Raffles Haw
will see the necessity for giving us some sort of explanation before
matters go further. He must understand that we have some claim now to
be taken into his confidence."
He had hardly spoken when there was a tap at the door, and the man of
whom they were speaking walked in.
"Good-morning, Mr. McIntyre," said he. "Robert, would you mind stepping
up to the Hall with me? I want to have a little business chat."
He looked serious, like a man who is carrying out something which he has
well weighed.
They walked up together with hardly a word on either side. Raffles Haw
was absorbed in his own thoughts. Robert felt expectant and nervous,
for he knew that something of importance lay before him. The winter had
almost passed now, and the first young shoots were beginning to peep out
timidly in the face of the wind and the rain of an English March.
The snows were gone, but the countryside looked bleaker and drearier,
all shrouded in the haze from the damp, sodden meadows.
"By the way, Robert," said Raffles Haw suddenly, as they walked up the
Avenue. "Has your great Roman picture gone to London?"
"I have not finished it yet."
"But I know that you are a quick worker.
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