es following. A foot man appeared and
stared. Gaston looked down on him neutrally, and dismounted. Jacques did
the same. The footman still stared. Another appeared behind. Gaston eyed
the puzzled servant calmly.

"Why don't you call a groom?" he presently said. There was a cold gleam
in his eye.

The footman shrank.

"Yessir, yessir," he said confusedly, and signalled. The other footman
came down, and made as if to take the bridle. Gaston waved him back.
None too soon, for the horse lunged at him.

"A rub down, a pint of beer, and water and feed in an hour, and
I'll come to see him myself late to-night." Jacques had loosened the
saddle-bags and taken them off. Gaston spoke to the horse, patted his
neck, and gave him to the groom. Then he went up the steps, followed by
Jacques. He turned at the door to see the groom leading both horses off,
and eyeing Saracen suspiciously. He laughed noiselessly.

"Saracen 'll teach him things," he said. "I might warn him, but it's
best for the horses to make their own impressions."

"What name, sir?" asked a footman.

"You are--?"

"Falby, Sir."

"Falby, look after my man Brillon here, and take me to Sir William."

"What name, sir?"

Gaston, as if with sudden thought, stepped into the light of the
candles, and said in a low voice: "Falby, don't you know me?"

The footman turned a little pale, as his eyes, in spite of themselves,
clung to Gaston's. A kind of fright came, and then they steadied.

"Oh yes, sir," he said mechanically.

"Where have you seen me?"

"In the picture on the wall, sir."

"Whose picture, Falby?"

"Sir Gaston Belward, Sir."

A smile lurked at the corners of Gaston's mouth.

"Gaston Belward. Very well, then you know what to say to Sir William.
Show me into the library."

"Or the justices' room, sir?"

"The justices' room will do."

Gaston wondered what the justices' room was. A moment after he stood in
it, and the dazed Falby had gone, trying vainly to reconcile the picture
on the wall, which, now that he could think, he knew was very old, with
this strange man who had sent a curious cold shiver through him. But,
anyhow, he was a Belward, that was certain: voice, face, manner showed
it. But with something like no Belward he had ever seen. Left to
himself, Gaston looked round on a large, severe room. Its use dawned on
him. This was part of the life: Sir William was a Justice of the Peace.
But why had he been brought here? Why not to the l