visitors."

"Forgive me," said Mr. Clendon gently, but with a calmness and dignity
that impressed even the only half-sober Heyton, "but my intrusion is
justified, as Lord Sutcombe will bear me out, when he knows I am here."

"Oh, well," said Heyton, with an insolent shrug of his shoulders. "I
can't speak any more plainly. If you can't take a hint--but it doesn't
matter; I'm quite certain that you can't see my father, even if he can
be told that you are here."

"We will see," said Mr. Clendon.

Heyton looked at him for a moment, angrily and a trifle suspiciously;
then he swung on his heel and went out.

"You must not mind," said Celia. "Lord Heyton is, naturally, very much
upset. I should think he scarcely knows what he is saying to you."

"Very likely," assented Mr. Clendon gravely, and without any sign of
resentment.

"I will go up now," said Celia; "and I will come down again to you
directly."

"One moment," he said, staying her with a gesture. "Will you give me a
sheet of paper and a pen and ink?"

Celia did so. Mr. Clendon wrote the letter "W" on the paper, folded it
and handed it to her.

"Will you give him this, my dear? If he cannot read it, you may open it
and tell him what is written on it."

CHAPTER XXIX

Celia went up to the sick-room. She saw at a glance that the Marquess's
condition had improved; he was, of course, still dangerously ill, and
very weak; but his eyes, as they rested on her, were perfectly
intelligent and he smiled slightly as she bent over him. Then she turned
away to Doctor Scott and told him of Mr. Clendon's arrival and desire to
see the Marquess.

"I don't think he can do any harm, if he'll be quiet," said the doctor.
"At any rate, there is not sufficient reason for refusing to show the
paper to the Marquess."

Celia knelt beside the bed and conveyed gently Mr. Clendon's request for
an interview.

"Mr. Clendon?" repeated the Marquess, knitting his brows. "I don't know
him, my dear."

Then, slowly, she showed him the paper; but he could not read the letter
on it and she told him what it was. A flush rose to the white face, and
he nodded once or twice; and it seemed to Celia that the inclination of
the head had in it something more than a consent to receive the visitor,
an indication of some resolution, decision. She went downstairs, and
told Mr. Clendon the Marquess would see him.

The old man rose, with the aid of a stick, and followed her through the
hall;