David shook his head. He began another Mendelssohn.
Then suddenly he brought his hands down upon the keys in a harsh discord. He got up. He was trembling all over. Hilda went to him.
She said: ‘David—David.’
He said: ‘It’s nothing—it’s nothing…’
IV
The bell pealed aggressively. Tressilian rose from his seat in the pantry and went slowly out and along to the door.
The bell pealed again. Tressilian frowned. Through the frosted glass of the door he saw the silhouette of a man wearing a slouch hat.
Tressilian passed a hand over his forehead. Something worried him. It was as though everything was happening twice.
Surely this had happened before. Surely—
He drew back the latch and opened the door.
Then the spell broke. The man standing there said:
‘Is this where Mr Simeon Lee lives?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I’d like to see him, please.’
A faint echo of memory awoke in Tressilian. It was an intonation of voice that he remembered from the old days when Mr Lee was first in England.
Tressilian shook his head dubiously.
‘Mr Lee is an invalid, sir. He doesn’t see many people now. If you—’
The stranger interrupted.
He drew out an envelope and handed it to the butler.
‘Please give this to Mr Lee.’
‘Yes, sir.’
V
Simeon Lee took the envelope. He drew out the single sheet of paper it held. He looked surprised. His eyebrows rose, but he smiled.
‘By all that’s wonderful!’ he said.
Then to the butler: ‘Show Mr Farr up here, Tressilian.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Simeon said: ‘I was just thinking of old Ebenezer Farr. He was my partner out there in Kimberley. Now here’s his son come along!’
Tressilian reappeared. He announced: ‘Mr Farr.’
Stephen Farr came in with a trace of nervousness. He disguised it by putting on a little extra swagger. He said—and just for the moment his South African accent was more marked than usual: ‘Mr Lee?’
‘I’m glad to see you. So you’re Eb’s boy?’