ibrary as himself had
suggested? There would be some awkward hours for Falby in the future.
Gaston had as winning a smile, as sweet a manner, as any one in the
world, so long as a straight game was on; but to cross his will with
the other--he had been too long a power in that wild country where his
father had also been a power! He did not quite know how long he waited,
for he was busy with plans as to his career at Ridley Court. He was
roused at last by Falby's entrance. A keen, cold look shot from under
his straight brows.

"Well?" he asked.

"Will you step into the library, sir? Sir William will see you there."

Falby tried to avoid his look, but his eyes were compelled, and Gaston
said:

"Falby, you will always hate to enter this room." Falby was agitated.

"I hope not, sir."

"But you will, Falby, unless--"

"Yessir?"

"Unless you are both the serpent and the dove, Falby."

"Yessir."

As they entered the hall, Brillon with the saddle-bags was being taken
in charge, and Gaston saw what a strange figure he looked beside the
other servants and in these fine surroundings. He could not think that
himself was so bizarre. Nor was he. But he looked unusual; as one of
high civilisation might, through long absence in primitive countries,
return in uncommon clothing, and with a manner of distinguished
strangeness: the barbaric to protect the refined, as one has seen a
bush of firs set to shelter a wheat-field from a seawind, or a wind-mill
water cunningly-begotten flowers.

As he went through the hall other visitors were entering. They passed
him, making for the staircase. Ladies with the grand air looked at
him curiously, and two girls glanced shyly from the jingling spurs and
tasselled boots to his rare face.

One of the ladies suddenly gave a little gasping cry, and catching the
arm of her companion, said:

"Reine, how like Robert Belward! Who--who is he?"

The other coolly put up her pince-nez. She caught Gaston's profile and
the turn of his shoulder.

"Yes, like, Sophie; but Robert never had such a back, nor anything like
the face."

She spoke with no attempt to modulate her voice, and it carried
distinctly to Gaston. He turned and glanced at them.

"He's a Belward, certainly, but like what one I don't know; and he's
terribly eccentric, my dear! Did you see the boots and the sash? Why,
bless me, if you are not shaking! Don't be silly--shivering at the
thought of Robert Belward after all these years