red--but rather the intense and
almost devilish malignity of the expression that hovered on the
blurred features and in the half-closed eyes. But no attempt was made
by George to translate the look into words, and indeed Philip felt
that it was untranslatable. He also felt dimly that the hate and
malice with which he was regarded by the individual at his feet was of
a more concentrated and enduring character than most men have the
power to originate. In the lurid light of that one glance he was able,
though he was not very clever, to pierce the darkest recesses of his
cousin's heart, and to see his inmost thought, no longer through a
veil, but face to face. And what he saw was sufficient to make the
blood leave his ruddy cheek, and to fix his eyes into an expression of
fear.

Next second George dropped his head on to the ground again, and began
to moan in an ostentatious manner, possibly in order to attract some
one whose footsteps could be plainly heard proceeding slowly down a
shrubbery-path on the other side of the yard wall. At any rate, that
was the effect produced; for next moment, before Philip could think of
escape, had he wished to escape, a door in the wall was opened, and a
gentleman, pausing on the threshold, surveyed the whole scene, with
the assistance of a gold-mounted eye-glass, with some evident surprise
and little apparent satisfaction.

The old gentleman, for he was old, made so pretty a picture, framed as
he was in the arched doorway, and set off by a natural background of
varying shades of green, that his general appearance is worth
sketching as he stood. To begin with, he was dressed in the fashion of
the commencement of this century, and, as has been said, old, though
it was difficult to say how old. Indeed, so vigorous and comparatively
youthful was his bearing that he was generally taken to be
considerably under seventy, but, as a matter of fact, he was but a few
years short of eighty. He was extremely tall, over six feet, and stood
upright as a lifeguardsman; indeed, his height and stately carriage
would alone have made him a remarkable-looking man, had there been
nothing else unusual about him; but, as it happened, his features were
as uncommon as his person. They were clear-cut and cast in a noble
mould. The nose was large and aquiline, the chin, like his son
Philip's, square and determined; but it was his eyes that gave a
painful fascination to his countenance. They were steely blue, and