4: Act of ContritionJack waited in the hallway outside his host’s study. The maid, Nellie, sullen as always, had indicated the room to him. Checking the time by the long case clock in the hall, he raised his hand to knock on the door, but MacBride’s baritone preempted him by booming out, ‘Enter.’
The study was warm, warmer than any other room in the house, a generous fire crackling away in the grate. It was also bright, despite the wood panelled walls and the inevitable oil paintings, as the gaslights were blazing. MacBride was sitting behind a large mahogany desk and there was another man sitting in the only armchair in the room. MacBride waved Jack towards a Persian rug in front of the desk, where he stood, feeling like a naughty pupil. It would not have surprised him had a dunce’s cap
