place, the glass
painted at the edge with slender flowers and cupids in the Caroline
fashion. He saw his reflection and it pleased him. The long face
with the pointed chin, the deep-set dark eyes, the skin brown with
weather--he seemed to detect a resemblance to Wharton. Or was it
Beaufort? Anyhow, now that the shabby coat was off, he might well be a
great man in undress. "My lord!" Why not? His father had always told
him he came of an old high family. Kings, he had said--of France, or
somewhere... A gold ring he wore on his left hand slipped from his
finger and jingled on the hearthstone. It was too big for him, and
when his fingers grew small with cold or wet it was apt to fall off.
He picked it up and laid it beside the decanters on the table. That had
been his father's ring, and he congratulated himself that in all his
necessities he had never parted from it. It was said to have come down
from ancient kings.

He turned to the table and cut himself a slice of ham. But he found he
had no appetite. He filled himself a bumper of claret. It was a
ripe velvety liquor and cooled his hot mouth. That was the drink for
gentlemen. Brandy in good time, but for the present this soft wine which
was in keeping with the warmth and light and sheen of silver.... His
excitement was dying now into complacence. He felt himself in the
environment for which Providence had fitted him. His whole being
expanded in the glow of it. He understood how able he was, how truly
virtuous--a master of intrigue, but one whose eye was always fixed on
the star of honour. And then his thoughts wandered to his son in the
mean London lodgings. The boy should have his chance and walk some day
in silks and laces. Curse his aliases! He should be Lovel, and carry his
head as high as any Villiers or Talbot.

The reflection sent his hand to an inner pocket of the coat now drying
by the hearth. He took from it a thin packet of papers wrapped in
oil-cloth. These were the fruits of his journey, together with certain
news too secret to commit to writing which he carried in his head. He
ran his eye over them, approved them, and laid them before him on the
table. They started a train of thought which brought him to the question
of his present quarters. ... A shadow of doubt flickered over his mind.
Whose house was this and why this entertainment? He had been expected,
or someone like him. An old campaigner took what gifts the gods sent,
but there might be questions t