"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."