CHAPTER XXX.
Ben let him in.
He came as an apparition, the old butler balancing the door in his hand, as if undecided what to do, trying to account for the change in the young man's appearance--the width of shoulders, the rough clothes, and the determined glance of his eye.
"Fo' Gawd, it's Marse Harry!" was all he said when he could get his mouth open.
"Yes, Ben--go and tell your mistress I am here," and he brushed past him and pushed back the drawing-room door.

Once inside he crossed to the mantel and stood with his back to the hearth, his sailor's cap in his hand, his eyes fixed on the door he had just closed behind him.

Through it would come the beginning or the end of his life.

Ben's noiseless entrance and exit a moment after, with his mistress's message neither raised nor depressed his hopes.

He had known all along she would not refuse to see him: what would come after was the wall that loomed up.
She had not hesitated, nor did she keep him waiting.