Mr. Troy gave it up. He composedly wheeled his chair around,
put his hands in his pockets, and looked out of window.

After an interval of silence, the drawing-room door was opened.

Mr. Troy wheeled round again briskly to the table, expecting to see Agnes.
To his surprise there appeared, in her place, a perfect stranger to him--
a gentleman, in the prime of life, with a marked expression of pain
and embarrassment on his handsome face. He looked at Mr. Troy,
and bowed gravely.

'I am so unfortunate as to have brought news to Miss Agnes Lockwood
which has greatly distressed her,' he said. 'She has retired to her room.
I am requested to make her excuses, and to speak to you in her place.'

Having introduced himself in those terms, he noticed Mrs. Ferrari,
and held out his hand to her kindly. 'It is some years since we
last met, Emily,' he said. 'I am afraid you have almost forgotten
the "Master Henry" of old times.' Emily, in some little confusion,
made her acknowledgments, and begged to know if she could be of any
use to Miss Lockwood. 'The old nurse is with her,' Henry answered;
'they will be better left together.' He turned once more to Mr. Troy.
'I ought to tell you,' he said, 'that my name is Henry Westwick. I am
the younger brother of the late Lord Montbarry.'

'The late Lord Montbarry!' Mr. Troy exclaimed.

'My brother died at Venice yesterday evening. There is the telegram.'
With that startling answer, he handed the paper to Mr. Troy.