a matter of fact he usually wore a mask,
but at the present moment, better feelings having the upper hand, the
mask had slipped a trifle. But as a rule he kept command of expression,
and words, and actions. An admirable example of self-control was Grexon
Hay.

On the other hand, Beecot was slight, tall and dark, with an eager
manner and a face which revealed his thoughts. His complexion was swart;
he had large black eyes, a sensitive mouth, and a small moustache
smartly twisted upward. He carried his head well, and looked rather
military in appearance, probably because many of his forebears had been
Army men. While Hay was smartly dressed in a Bond Street kit, Paul wore
a well-cut, shabby blue serge. He looked perfectly well-bred, but his
clothes were woefully threadbare.

From these and the garret and the lean meal of sausages Hay drew his
conclusions and put them into words.

"Your father has cut you off," said he, calmly, "and yet you propose to
marry."

"How do you know both things?"

"I keep my eyes open, Paul. I see this attic and your clothes. I saw
also the flush on your face when you asked me why I did not marry. You
are in love?"

"I am," said Beecot, becoming scarlet, and throwing back his head. "It
is clever of you to guess it. Prophesy more."

Hay smiled in a cold way. "I prophesy that if you marry on nothing you
will be miserable. But of course," he looked sharply at his open-faced
friend, "the lady may be rich."

"She is the daughter of a second-hand bookseller called Norman, and I
believe he combines selling books with pawnbroking."

"Hum," said Hay, "he might make money out of the last occupation. Is he
a Jew by any chance?"

"No. He is a miserable-looking, one-eyed Christian, with the manner of a
frightened rabbit."

"One-eyed and frightened," repeated Hay, musingly, but without change of
expression; "desirable father-in-law. And the daughter?"

"Sylvia. She is an angel, a white lily, a--"

"Of course," said Grexon, cutting short these rhapsodies. "And what do
you intend to marry on?"

Beecot fished a shabby blue velvet case out of his pocket. "On my last
five pounds and this," he said, opening the case.

Hay looked at the contents of the case, and saw a rather large brooch
made in the form of a jewelled serpent. "Opals, diamonds and gold," he
said slowly, then looked up eagerly. "Sell it to me."

CHAPTER II

DEBORAH JUNK, DUENNA

Number forty-five Gwynne Street was a s