McEwen had lately shown a strong and petulant wish to preserve his incognito, or what was left of it.

He would not have his son's escort.

George might come and see him at Vancouver; and that would be time enough to settle up for the winter.
So Ginnell, owner of the boarding house, a stalwart Irishman of six foot three, had been appointed to see him through his journey, settle him with his new protectors, and pay all necessary expenses.
Anderson knocked at his father's door and was allowed to enter.

He found McEwen walking up and down his room, with the aid of a stick, irritably pushing chairs and clothes out of his way.

The room was in squalid disorder, and its inmate had a flushed, exasperated look that did not escape Anderson's notice.