"No," quietly; then, flushing: "You will not mind if he is a little cross, and--and fault finding? He is so old, you know, and then he is tired and half sick." "I shall not mind," he answers, a little grimly, as he follows her through a small suite of rooms to Mr. Langton's own especial one. "Mr. Charteris is here, uncle," she says, quietly ushering the visitor in, and sensitively withdrawing. CHAPTER XIII. Vane Charteris, entering the cool, breezy white room, with its wide windows opening upon the sea, encounters the half-indignant gaze of his old friend, who is lying on a low couch in a silken dressing-gown and tasseled cap, his wrinkled old hands grasping the knob of his gold-headed cane, which he proceeds to thump viciously on the floor at the young man's entrance, thereby expressing the war-like state of his mind. "I hope I see you well, Mr. Langton," airily observes the handsome young "reprobate," as Mr. Langton mentally dubs him. "Then you'll be disappointed," snaps the old millionaire, irefully. "Never was so mortally used up before in my life. Soul and body will scarcely hold together. And all on your account, you disobedient young rascal." "Disobedient?" Mr. Charteris queries, in a mild tone, slightly arching his eyebrows. "Disobedient, yes;" with an emphatic thump of the cane. "Didn't you receive my telegram ordering you to remain in New York until I came?" "Ye-es, I did," admits the culprit, with no great show of repentance, "but being, according to the old law, free, white, and twenty-one, I didn't seem to see that I was under any man's orders." "Nor any woman's either?" testily. "Nor any woman's either," Vane repeats, undauntedly. "At least I expected a show of courtesy from a young fellow whom I had tried hard to benefit," Mr. Langton retorts, with his stiffest air. Whereat Mr. Charteris, after a little ambiguous cough, puts on a show of meekness. "Ah, there I see my naughtiness," he says. "I acted like a churl. There can be no two opinions as to _that_. But, sir, if you could only know the madness of the passion that drove me on, I think you might find some excuse for me in your heart." Mr. Langton, differing from him on this latter point, says nothing in reply, but discreetly changes the conversation. "You talked with Reine?" he inquires. "Oh, yes; or, I may say, she talked with me," this ruefully. Mr. Langton at this chuckled heartlessly. "She has a sharp tongue of her own, I warrant you," he says. "Inherited honestly enough," replies Mr. Charteris, with a pointed bow at the old gentleman. "Yes--yes; chip of the old block," Mr. Langton retorts, in nowise disconcerted at the hint of his niece's resemblance to himself. "Well, Vane, this mission on which she has followed you abroad--has she broached it?" His yet keen eyes detect the flush that steals up to the young man's temples as he replies in the affirmative. "I hope it was concluded to her satisfaction."