The guard at the gate had accepted his explanation for his arrival and directed him to go to the back of the mansion for admittance to the house. It was a suggestion Loren rejected. Something in his mind told him he was not a servant and he knew that any message from the Teacher somehow bestowed status. He ignored his aching feet and calf muscles and marched with a straight back up the front path and raised the heavy knocker against the ornate, carved door.
A black-suited, elderly manservant opened the door and cold, grey eyes seemed to glare at him for intruding. “The tradesmen and servants are to use the back entrance,” with those words, the man began to close the door.
“I am neither as I am delivering a letter to Mr. Donaldson from the Teacher. I have been instructed to hear his respo
