Roger knew that there had been no Board.

Mr Melmotte was in the country and there could be no Board, nor could Sir Felix have had business in the city.

It was sheer impudence,--sheer indifference, and, into the bargain, a downright lie.

The young man, who was of himself so unwelcome, who had come there on a project which he, Roger, utterly disapproved,--who had now knocked him and his household up at four o'clock in the morning,--had uttered no word of apology.

'Miserable cub!' Roger muttered between his teeth.