"Not a soul—only Gwendoline."
"Gwendoline!" I cried, "and who may Gwendoline be?"
"My daughter—your cousin. My only child! Would you like to see her?"
"I had no idea you had a daughter. Of course I should like to see her!"
He left the table and rang the bell. The ancient man-servant answered the summons.
"Tell your wife to bring Miss Gwendoline to us."
"Miss Gwendoline here, sir? You do not mean it sure-lie, sir?"
"Numbskull! Numbskull! Numbskull!" cried the old fellow in an ecstasy of fury that seemed to spring up as suddenly as a squall between the islands, "bring her without another word or I'll be the death of you."
Without further remonstrance the old man left the room, and I demanded an explanation.
"Good servant, but an impudent rascal, sir! Of course you must see my daughter, my beautiful daughter Gwendoline. He's afraid you'll frighten her, I suppose! Ha! ha! Frighten my bashful pretty one. Ha! ha!"
Anything so supremely devilish as the dried-up mirth of this old fellow it would be impossible to imagine. His very laugh seemed as if it had to crack in his throat before it could pass his lips. What could his daughter be like, living in such a house, with such companions? While I was wondering I heard footsteps in the corridor, and then an old woman entered and curtseyed respectfully. My host rose and went over to the fireplace, where he stood with his hands behind his back and the same devilish grin upon his face.
"Well, where is my daughter?"
