I'd leave the arranging of it to Jasper."

Mr. Vermont beamed. Nothing seemed to please him so much as the idea of
work, especially when it involved the spending of money other than his
own.

"I am at your service, dear lady," he said amiably.

Miss Penelope rose, and gave the signal for the ladies to retire.

"I shall take you at your word, Mr. Vermont," she said graciously, as
she passed out.

After the ladies had gone, the wine circulated freely, and in the merry
badinage that followed it must be admitted that Jasper Vermont was the
life and soul of the party. He had the newest scandal at his
finger-tips, the latest theatrical news; and all was related in a witty
manner that kept his listeners in a perpetual roar of laughter.

Adrien, though compelled by politeness to take his share in the
conversation, was yet glad when they adjourned to the silver
drawing-room. This was one of the smallest of the half-dozen
drawing-rooms in Barminster Castle, and was decorated entirely in blue
and silver. The furniture was upholstered in pale blue stain and silver
embroideries. Curtains, hangings, and even carpet, were all of the same
colour, while the mirrors and ornaments were entirely of silver.

To-night, Lady Constance's dress matched the room, for it was of palest
azure silk, veiled with chiffon, on which were Etruscan silver ornaments
and silver-thread embroidery. It was a colour which suited her
shell-like complexion; and she looked her best in it.

She was at the piano when the men entered; and Leroy, who was
passionately fond of music, and a musician of no mean order himself,
came straight over to her. At his request, Constance sang song after
song; while Vermont sat a little apart, listening, and occasionally
glancing thoughtfully at the beautiful profile of the singer. Then his
cold, malignant eyes would wander with an almost sinister expression
over the rapt face of his friend and benefactor, as he leaned over the
piano. But at any movement of the other guests his countenance would
assume its usual amiability of expression, as though a mask were
re-adjusted, while his fat, white hand softly beat time to the music.

At last Lady Constance declared she was tired, and turned to Adrien,
begging him to sing instead. He hesitated for a moment; then, as if
throwing off the unusual moodiness that oppressed him, he seated himself
at the piano; and, after a few moments of restless improvisation, he
sang song after son