through a magnifying glass.

It was in this matter of taste that it differed from Sir Robert
Aylward's home, Old Hall, a few miles away. Not that this was old
either, for the original house had fallen down or been burnt a hundred
years before. But Sir Robert, being gifted with artistic perception, had
reared up in place of it a smaller but really beautiful dwelling of soft
grey stone, long and low, and built in the Tudor style with many gables.

This house, charming as it was, could not of course compare with
Yarleys, the ancient seat of the Vernons in the same neighbourhood.
Yarleys was pure Elizabethan, although it contained an oak-roofed hall
which was said to date back to the time of King John, a remnant of a
former house. There was no electric light or other modern convenience
at Yarleys, yet it was a place that everyone went to see because of its
exceeding beauty and its historical associations. The moat by which it
was surrounded, the grass court within, for it was built on three sides
of a square, the mullioned windows, the towered gateway of red brick,
the low-panelled rooms hung with the portraits of departed Vernons,
the sloping park and the splendid oaks that stood about, singly or in
groups, were all of them perfect in their way. It was one of the most
lovely of English homes, and oddly enough its neglected gardens and the
air of decay that pervaded it, added to rather than decreased its charm.

But it is with The Court that we have to do at present, not with
Yarleys. Mr. Champers-Haswell had a week-end party. There were ten
guests, all men, and with the exception of Alan, who it will be
remembered was one of them, all rich and in business. They included two
French bankers and three Jews, everyone a prop of the original Sahara
Syndicate and deeply interested in the forthcoming flotation. To