on his head than most of us. In the glow of the lamp his features
were very clear, and I examined them with interest, for, remember,
I was expecting a stranger to give me orders. He had a long, rather
strong chin and an obstinate mouth with peevish lines about its
corners. But the remarkable feature was his eyes. I can best describe
them by saying that they looked hot - not fierce or angry, but so
restless that they seemed to ache physically and to want sponging
with cold water.

They finished their talk about the picture - which was couched
in a jargon of which I did not understand one word - and Miss
Doria turned to me and the young man.

'My cousin Launcelot Wake - Mr Brand.'

We nodded stiffly and Mr Wake's hand went up to smooth his
hair in a self-conscious gesture.

'Has Barnard announced dinner? By the way, where is Mary?'

'She came in five minutes ago and I sent her to change,' said
Miss Claire. 'I won't have her spoiling the evening with that horrid
uniform. She may masquerade as she likes out-of-doors, but this
house is for civilized people.'

The butler appeared and mumbled something. 'Come along,'
cried Miss Doria, 'for I'm sure you are starving, Mr Brand. And
Launcelot has bicycled ten miles.'

The dining-room was very unlike the hall. The panelling had been