that the man in the grey suit was a person of no small distinction
in society, else surely he would not have come up and spoken with
such engaging frankness and ease of manner.

"I beg your pardon," the stranger said, addressing him in pure and
limpid English, which sounded to Philip like the dialect of the
very best circles, yet with some nameless difference of intonation
or accent which certainly was not foreign, still less provincial,
or Scotch, or Irish; it seemed rather like the very purest well of
English undefiled Philip had ever heard,--only, if anything, a
little more so; "I beg your pardon, but I'm a stranger hereabouts,
and I should be so VERY much obliged if you could kindly direct me
to any good lodgings."

His voice and accent attracted Philip even more now he stood near
at hand than his appearance had done from a little distance. It was
impossible, indeed, to say definitely in set terms what there was
about the man that made his personality and his words so charming;
but from that very first minute, Philip freely admitted to himself
that the stranger in the grey suit was a perfect gentleman. Nay, so
much did he feel it in his ingenuous way that he threw off at once
his accustomed cloak of dubious reserve, and, standing still to
think, answered after a short pause, "Well, we've a great many very
nice furnished houses about here to let, but not many lodgings.
Brackenhurst's a cut above lodgings, don't you know; it's a
residential quarter. But I should think Miss Blake's, at
Heathercliff House, would perhaps be just the sort of thing to
suit you."

"Oh, thank you," the stranger answered, with a deferential