per
in the hand which held the _Mayfair Gazette_, the newspaper concealing
it. As he turned and looked towards the door an unexpected sight greeted
his eyes--no other than Pateley, who, finding himself in the hall
unheralded, had made up his mind to come into Rendel's study and there
ring the bell for some one who should bring word to Sir William Gore of
his presence. But he was surprised to find Sir William downstairs
instead of in his room as he had expected. He paused for a moment,
shocked at the change in Gore's appearance. He looked thin, listless,
bent: his upright figure, his spring, his energy were gone. Pateley's
heart smote him for a moment. Would it be possible to call this feeble,
suffering creature to account? Then his heart hardened again as he
thought of his sisters.

"Pateley!" said Gore, advancing with the remains of his usual manner,
but curiously shaken for the moment, as Pateley said to himself, out of
his usual self-confidence.

The state of nervousness of the older man was painfully perceptible.
Added to his general weakness, which made the mere fact of seeing some
one unexpectedly a sudden shock to him, he had besides at that moment an
additional and very definite reason for uneasiness in the thing which he
held in his hand. He endeavoured, however, to pull himself together as
he shook hands with Pateley.

"I have not seen you for a long time," he said, pointing to a chair and
sinking back into his own.

"No," Pateley replied. "I was very sorry to hear that you had been ill.
You are looking rather bad still."

"And feeling so," Sir William said wearily. "The worst of influenza is
that one feels just as bad when one is supposed to be getting better as
when one is supposed to be getting worse. It is a most annoying form of
complaint."

"So I have understood," said Pateley, "though I have not learnt it by
personal experience."

"No, you don't look as though you suffered from weakness," said Sir
William, with a faint smile and a consciousness that this was not a
person from whom it would be very easy to extract sympathy for his own
condition.

Pateley paused. He felt curiously uncomfortable and hesitating, a
sensation somewhat novel to him. Sir William leant back in his chair,
trying to control the trembling of his hands, of which one held the
_Mayfair Gazette_, the smaller paper still concealed underneath it.

"I see," Pateley said, "you are reading the evening paper. Not very good
readi