ul when a young man seems so
friendless."

Shelton was silent; he was thinking deeply. He had never before felt so
distrustful of the youthful foreigner.

"I think," he said at last, "the best thing would be for you to see him
for yourself."

"Very well," said Mrs. Dennant. "I should be so glad if you would tell
him to come up. I must say I do think that was a most touchin' story
about Paris. I wonder whether this light's strong enough now for me to
photograph this rose."

Shelton withdrew and went down-stairs. Ferrand was still at breakfast.
Antonia stood at the sideboard carving beef for him, and in the window
sat Thea with her Persian kitten.

Both girls were following the traveller's movements with inscrutable blue
eyes. A shiver ran down Shelton's spine. To speak truth, he cursed the
young man's coming, as though it affected his relations with Antonia.

CHAPTER XXVII

SUB ROSA

From the interview, which Shelton had the mixed delight of watching,
between Ferrand and the Honourable Mrs. Dennant, certain definite results
accrued, the chief of which was the permission accorded the young
wanderer to occupy the room which had formerly been tenanted by the
footman John. Shelton was lost in admiration of Ferrand's manner in this
scene.. Its subtle combination of deference and dignity was almost
paralysing; paralysing, too, the subterranean smile upon his lips.

"Charmin' young man, Dick," said Mrs. Dennant, when Shelton lingered to
say once more that he knew but very little of him; "I shall send a note
round to Mrs. Robinson at once. They're rather common, you know--the
Robinsons. I think they'll take anyone I recommend."

"I 'm sure they will," said Shelton; "that's why I think you ought to
know--"

But Mrs. Dennant's eyes, fervent, hare-like, were fixed on something far
away; turning, he saw the rose in a tall vase on a tall and spindly
stool. It seemed to nod towards them in the sunshine. Mrs. Dennant
dived her nose towards her camera.

"The light's perfect now," she said, in a voice muffled by the cloth. "I
feel sure that livin' with decent people will do wonders for him. Of
course, he understands that his meals will be served to him apart."

Shelton, doubly anxious, now that his efforts had lodged his client in a
place of trust, fell, back on hoping for the best; his instinct told him
that, vagabond as Ferrand was, he had a curious self-respect, that would
save him from a mean ingra