Rawson-Clew was riding past, but slowly; it was quite possible to see
his face, which did not contradict her former opinion--good-natured
but foolish, and possibly weak. He turned in his saddle just below the
window to speak to 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.