"Very good, my lord."
Mackeller stood there hesitating. Ponderby apparently didn't know he was in the room. Stranleigh, with some care, selected another peach. Mackeller, clearing his throat several times, said huskily—
"I will wait for Corbitt if that is your wish."
"Bring Mr. Alexander Corbitt here, Ponderby."
"Very good, my lord," reiterated Ponderby, fading from the room.
"May I suggest a peach?" proffered Stranleigh, with the accents and tones of a seraph.
"Thank you," replied Mackeller, reaching forward and helping himself.
"They are really excellent for this time of the year," commented his lordship genially.
Nothing more was said until the door opened, and—
"Mr. Alexander Corbitt," announced the footman.
The bank manager stepped inside, then paused abruptly as he saw Mackeller, while a frown ruffled his brow.
"You sent for me?" he said.
"Yes, Corbitt. I am ever so much obliged for your promptness."
"That is due, my lord, to the recklessness of your
