ty Street, though it stole in through two large windows. The
smoking-room was on the first floor; and the Duke's bedroom opened into
it. It was furnished in the most luxurious fashion, but with a taste
which nowadays infrequently accompanies luxury. The chairs were of the
most comfortable, but their lines were excellent; the couch against the
wall, between the two windows, was the last word in the matter of
comfort. The colour scheme, of a light greyish-blue, was almost too
bright for a man's room; it would have better suited a boudoir. It
suggested that the owner of the room enjoyed an uncommon lightness and
cheerfulness of temperament. On the walls, with wide gaps between them
so that they did not clash, hung three or four excellent pictures. Two
ballet-girls by Degas, a group of shepherdesses and shepherds, in pink
and blue and white beribboned silk, by Fragonard, a portrait of a woman
by Bastien-Lepage, a charming Corot, and two Conder fans showed that
the taste of their fortunate owner was at any rate eclectic. At the end
of the room was, of all curious things, the opening into the well of a
lift. The doors of it were open, though the lift itself was on some
other floor. To the left of the opening stood a book-case, its shelves
loaded with books of a kind rather suited to a cultivated, thoughtful
man than to an idle dandy.

Beside the window, half-hidden, and peering through the side of the
curtain into the street, stood M. Charolais. But it was hardly the M.
Charolais who had paid M. Gournay-Martin that visit at the Chateau de
Charmerace, and departed so firmly in the millionaire's favourite
motor-car. This was a paler M. Charolais; he lacked altogether the
rich, ruddy complexion of the millionaire's visitor. His nose, too, was
thinner, and showed none of the ripe acquaintance with the vintages of
the world which had been so plainly displayed on it during its owner's
visit to the country. Again, hair and eyebrows were no longer black,
but fair; and his hair was no longer curly and luxuriant, but thin and
lank. His moustache had vanished, and along with it the dress of a
well-to-do provincial man of business. He wore a livery of the
Charmeraces, and at that early morning hour had not yet assumed the
blue waistcoat which is an integral part of it. Indeed it would have
required an acute and experienced observer to recognize in him the
bogus purchaser of the Mercrac. Only his eyes, his close-set eyes, were
unchanged.