He suddenly noticed the delicacy of her tiny wrist as her hand paused at
the edge of her plate, and the brilliance of her eyes--large and
greenish-grey, with a marked black line round the iris. The very
perception perhaps made his answer more cold and measured.

"He was a Catholic recusant, under Elizabeth. He had harboured a priest,
and he and the priest and a friend suffered death for it together at
Manchester. Afterwards their heads were fixed on the outside of
Manchester parish church."

"How horrible!" said Miss Fountain, frowning. "Do you know anything more
about him?"

"Yes, we have letters----"

But he would say no more, and the subject dropped. Not to let the
conversation also come to an end, he pointed to some old gilded leather
which covered one side of the room, while the other three walls were
oak-panelled from ceiling to floor.

"It is very dim and dingy now," said Helbeck; "but when it was fresh, it
was the wonder of the place. The room got the name of Paradise from it.
There are many mentions of it in the old letters."

"Who put it up?"

"The brother of the martyr--twenty years later."

"The martyr!" she thought, half scornfully. "No doubt he is as proud of
that as of his twenty generations!"