his companion, and she noticed that it was a
stranger with him, a man wearing a single eyeglass, ten years older
than the other, and of a totally different stamp. Indeed, of a stamp
differing from any she had seen at Marbridge, so much so that she
wondered how he came to be here, and what he was doing. But this was
rather a waste of time, for the next day she knew.

The next day he came down the street again, but this time alone and on
foot. He stopped at No. 27, and there asked for Captain Polkington.
Julia, hearing the knock, and the visitor subsequently being ushered
into the dining-room, guessed it must be Mr. Gillat, perhaps come with
his parcel again; when she saw Mary she asked her.

"No, miss," was the answer; "it's another gentleman to see the
master."

"Who?" Julia's mind was alert for fresh difficulties.

"Mr. Rawson-Clew."

"I don't know who he is," Mary went on; "I've never set eyes on him
before, but he's a grand sort of gentleman; I hardly liked to put him
in the dining-room, only missis's orders was 'Mr. Gillat or any
gentleman to see the master there.'"

Which was true enough, and might reasonably have been reckoned a safe
order, for no one but Mr. Gillat ever did come to see the Captain.

"I hope I've done right," Mary said.

"Quite right," Julia answered, though she did not feel so sure of it.
The name and the vague description of the visitor somehow suggested to
her mind the stranger who had ridden past with young Mr. Rawson-Clew.
She went up-stairs, uneasy as much from intuition as from experience.
In the hall she stood a minute. The dining-room door did not shut too
well, the lock was old and worn, and unless it was fastened carefully,
it came open; the Captain never managed to fasten it, and now it stood
ajar; Julia could hear something of what was said within almost as
soon as she reached the top of the kitchen stairs. The visitor spoke
quietly, his words were not audible, but the Captain's voice was
raised with excitement.

"The money, sir, the money that your cousin lent--accommodation
between gentlemen--"

So Julia heard incompletely, and then another disjointed sentence.

"Do you take me for an adventurer, a sharper? I am a soldier, sir, a
soldier and a gentleman--at least, I was--I mean I was a soldier, I am
a gentleman--"

Julia came swiftly up the hall, the instinct of the female to spread
frail wings and protect her helpless belongings (old equally as much
as young) was s