ry, and never mind what any one says."

"All right, mother; you have made me a bit curious, I confess," said
Harry, leaving the room.

The garden in front of Holly Lodge was formal--just a carriage-drive,
and a bit of shrubbery, and a grass-plat with prim beds on it, which had
various flower eruptions at different periods of the year. First
snowdrops, aconites, and crocuses, then tulips, then geraniums. The
real garden was at the back, and the study looked out upon it. Not upon
the lawn, where bowls, or lawn-tennis, or other disturbing proceedings
might be going on; no, from the oriel window, which alone lighted the
room, one saw a fountain, a statue, rose-bushes, and a catalpa tree,
enclosed in a fringe of foliage, syringa, lilac, laurel, chestnut, high
and thick enough to make it as private and quiet as any man with a
speech to prepare, or sums to do, might require. Harry went along a
passage, turned to the left up five steps, passed through a green-baize
swing door, and knocked at that of the study.

A deep musical voice, which seemed, however, to come from a strange
distance, told him to "come in," and on opening the door, he found that
he had to push aside a curtain hanging over it, and which had dulled the
sound of the voice. Smoke wreaths floated about the apartment, bearing
an aromatic odour quite different from ordinary tobacco, and a curious
gurgling sound, like that of water on the boil, only intermittent, came
from the direction of the broad low sofa, which had been brought from
the drawing-room, and was placed between the fire and the window. Close
to this was a small table with writing materials, a note-book, and a
pile of letters ready for the post, upon it.

On the sofa reclined a man dressed in a black frock-coat, buttoned, and
dark trousers, the only Oriental thing about him being the red cap with
a silk tassel which he wore on his head. But smokers often have a fancy
for wearing the fez, so there was nothing peculiar in that. And yet
there was something different from other people about him. Most men
lounging on a sofa are ungainly and awkward-looking, while the attitude
of this one was easy and graceful, and the motion of his hand, with
which he indicated the chair on which he wished his nephew to be seated,
was courteous and yet commanding.

His complexion was sallow, and appeared the darker from the contrast
afforded by the silvery whiteness of his long beard, moustache, and
thick bus