and an other of the same kind across her knees. She had the aspect
of extreme age and of out-worn health; the skin of her face was like
shrivelled parchment; her hands were mere skin and bone; she sat as
though on the point of sinking across the arm of her chair for very
feebleness. But in the whitish-yellow visage shone a pair of eyes
which had by no means lost their vitality; so keen were they, so
darkly lustrous, that to meet them was to forget every other
peculiarity of Lady Ogram's person. Regarding the eyes alone, one
seemed to have the vision of a handsome countenance, with proud
lips, and carelessly defiant smile. The illusion was aided by a
crown of hair such as no woman of Lady Ogram's age ever did, or
possibly could, possess in her own right; hair of magnificent
abundance, of rich auburn hue, plaited and rolled into an elaborate
coiffure.

Before this singular figure, Dyce Lashmar paused and bowed. Pale,
breathing uneasily, he supported the scrutiny of those dark eyes for
what seemed to him a minute or two of most uncomfortable time. Then,
with the faintest of welcoming smiles, Lady Ogram--who had slowly
straightened herself--spoke in a voice which startled the hearer,
so much louder and firmer was it than he had expected.

"I am glad to see you, Mr. Lashmar. Pray sit down."

Without paying any attention to the rest of the company, Dyce
obeyed. His feeling was that he had somehow been admitted to the
presence of a sovereign, and that any initiative on his own part
would be utterly out of place. Never in his life had he felt so
little and so subdued.