move a muscle. Then Henry noticed that he was unusually pale, and
something about his unwinking eyes also seemed foreign to an
intelligent expression. They were set, and no movement of light
played upon them. It seemed that the watcher was in a trance.
Henry felt his heart jump, and a sensation of alarm sharpened
his thought. For him the morning was suddenly transformed, and
fearing an evil thing had indeed befallen the other, he turned to
the terrace and entered the breakfast-room from it. The time was
now five minutes to nine, and as unfailing punctuality had ever
been a foible of Sir Walter, his guests usually respected it. Most
of them were already assembled, and Mary May, who was just stepping
into the garden, asked Henry if he had seen her husband.

"He's always the first to get up and the last to go to bed," she
said.

Bidding her good-morning, but not answering her question, the young
man hastened through the room and ascended to the corridor. Beneath,
Ernest Travers, a being of fussy temperament with a heart of gold,
spoke to Colonel Vane. Travers was clad in Sunday black, for he
respected tradition.

"Forgive me, won't you, but this is your first visit, and you don't
look much like church."

"Must we go to church, too?" asked the colonel blankly. He was
still a year under forty, but had achieved distinction in the war.
"There is no 'must' about it, but Sir Walter would appreciate the
effort on your part. He likes his guests to go. He is one of
those men who are a light to this generation--an ancient light,