"Not yet. I reckon he'll be along shortly."

Horace rushed into the room and asked, "Did he say why he came to visit me?"

Shane paused and replied, "No, the servant who answered the phone forgot to ask."

"I'm going to change my clothes. If he arrives, usher him into the study, will you?"

“Sure thing."

Horace headed straight for the second floor.

Shane waited in the parlor.

Moments later, the distant hum of an engine reached his ears.

Shane sprang up, affecting a pretense of tidying the table with a cloth.

Under the servant's guidance, a strapping young man entered. Towering at over six feet, he sported broad shoulders and a slender waist.

His tailored suit and handcrafted shoes exuded sophistication.

Casting a fleeting glance at Tyrone, Shane inwardly marveled at his uncanny resemblance to both Horace and Blayze.

The servant addressed Shane, "Tyrone has arrived."

That said, he moved aside and obeyed the commands.

With feigned nonchalance, Shane turned around, feigning surprise.

“Ah, Mr. Blakely! Your reputation precedes you, a true prodigy indeed!"

Tyrone, composed, asked, “Is Mr. Fowler present?"

"Indeed." Shane grinned and said, "He's taking a breather. Follow me to the study, please. I'll fetch him."

Silent, Tyrone followed Shane upstairs.

Curious, Shane probed, "Our families have drifted apart. May I know what prompts this visit?"