Sir William looked firmly and somewhat sternly at Miss Acton and said: "I am very sorry, madam, that you should hold this opinion, very sorry indeed. I had thought you the friend and well-wisher of my son--in this respect eminently the charitable and warm-hearted sister of Captain Acton. But if you mean to imply that Mr Lawrence wrote the letter to Miss Lucy, then you have to confess (which would be an indignity done to a beautiful character) that your niece was a willing recipient of my son's missive, that she hastened to him on reading the contents of his communication and that in short, the design of the _Minorca's_ premature sailing was that Mr Lawrence and Miss Lucy Acton should elope--a thing not to be dreamt of--at an hour when few were abroad, and when there was little or no chance of the news reaching her home that Captain Acton's daughter had sailed in the _Minorca_." Scarcely had the old gentleman pronounced these words when a footman, throwing open the door, exclaimed: "Mr Greyquill presents his humble respects to Captain Acton, and desires leave to speak with him." "Mr Greyquill!" cried Captain Acton. "Mr Greyquill!" echoed the Admiral, looking with a changed face at the footman. "Mr Greyquill!" cried Miss Acton. "Why, he may have come with news of Lucy. Bid him step in!" The footman disappeared. "What on earth but some news of my daughter can bring Greyquill here at this hour?" said Captain Acton. The Admiral looked deaf, and continued to stare at the door, which in a few moments was again flung open, and Mr Greyquill entered. CHAPTER IX MR GREYQUILL'S VISIT Mr Greyquill entered the room by two paces, and placing his hand upon the spot where he supposed his heart to lie, made three separate bows to the company, each of the "Your most humble and obedient servant" school; it was an expression of ceremony which for mingled respect and senility should have pleased, as it no doubt did please, Miss Acton. He was a figure striking in its way as he made these bows, with his long, snow-white hair, his heavy white eyebrows, his long curling nose, the purely congenital satiric leer that characterised the formation of his thin lips; and his faded dress, which was a very good representation of his mind, aided the impression produced by his face. Admiral Lawrence gave him a nod which was barely a mark of recognition. Captain Acton bowed to him in silence. Miss Acton cried out: "Pray step in, Mr Greyquill, and be seated!"