eldam's voice was
heard on the stairs, and, in a moment, Beldam himself appeared--"Mr.
Henry, Sir Jeremy." Then he stood aside, and Henry Trojan entered the
room.

Clare made a step forward.

"Harry--old boy--at last------"

Both her hands were outstretched, but he disregarded them, and,
stepping forward, crushed her in his arms, crushed her dress, crushed
the beautiful rose at her breast, and, bending down, kissed her again
and again.

"Clare--after twenty years!"

He let her go and she stepped back, still smiling, but she touched the
rose for a moment and her hair. He was very strong.

And then there was a little pause. Harry Trojan turned and faced his
father. The old man made no movement and gave no sign, but he said,
his lips stirring very slightly, "I am glad to see you here again,
Harry."

The man flushed, and with a little stammer answered, "I am gladder to
be back than you can know, father."

Sir Jeremy's wrinkled hand appeared from behind the rugs, and the two
men shook in silence.

Then Garrett came forward. "You're not much changed, Harry," he said
with a laugh, "in spite of the twenty years."

"Why, Garrie!" His brother stepped towards him and laid a hand on his
shoulder. "It's splendid to see you again. I'd almost forgotten what
you were like--I only had that old photo, you know--of us both at
Rugby."

Robin had stood aside, in a corner by the fireplace, watching his
father. It was very much as he had expected, only he couldn't, try as
he might, think of him as his father at all. The man there who had
kissed Aunt Clare and shaken hands with Sir Jeremy was, in some
unexplained way, a little odd and out of place. He was big and strong;
his hair curled a little and was dark brown, like Robin's, and his eyes
were blue, but, in other respects, there was very little of the Trojan
about him. His mouth was large, and he had a brown, slightly curling
moustache. Indeed the general impression was brown in spite of the
blue, badly fitting suit. He was deeply tanned by the sun and was
slightly freckled.

He would have looked splendid in New Zealand or Klondyke, or, indeed,
anywhere where you worked with your coat off and your shirt open at the
neck; but here, in that drawing-room, it was a pity, Robin thought,
that his father had not stopped for two or three days in town and gone
to a West End tailor.

But, after all, it was a very nice little scene. It really had been
quite moving to