As he spoke a tap was heard at the room-door.

"Well, that's odd," continued Lawless; "that's Wilford for a ducat; talk
of the devil,--eh, don't you know? Come in."

"You had better not repeat that in his hearing," observed Archer,
"though I believe he'd take it as a compliment on the whole; it's my
opinion he rather affects the satanic."

"Hush," said Curtis, pressing his arm, "here he is."

As he spoke the door opened, and the subject of their remarks entered.
He was rather above the middle height, of a slight but unusually elegant
figure, with remarkably small hands and feet, the former of which were
white and smooth as those of a woman. His features were delicately
formed and regular, and the shape of his face a perfect oval; strongly
marked eyebrows overshadowed a pair of piercing black eyes; his lips
were thin and compressed, and his mouth finely cut; his hair, which was
unusually glossy and luxuriant, was jet black, as were his whiskers,
affording a marked contrast to the death-like pallor of his countenance.
The only fault that could be found in the drawing of his face was that
the eyes were placed too near together; but this imparted a character of
intensity to his glance which added to, rather than detracted from, the
general effect of his appearance. His features, when in repose, were
usually marked by an expression of contemptuous indifference; he seldom
laughed, but his smile conveyed an indication of such bitter sarcasm
that I have seen men, whom he chose to make a butt for his ridicule,
writhe under it as under the infliction of bodily torture. He was
dressed, as was his wont, entirely in black; but his clothes, which were
fashionably cut, fitted him without a wrinkle. He bowed slightly to the
assembled company, and then seated himself in a chair which had been
reserved for ~166~~him at the upper end of the table, nearly opposite
Oaklands and myself, saying as he did so: "I'm afraid I'm rather late,
Lawless, but Wentworth and I had a little business to transact, and I
could not get away sooner".

"What devil's deed have they been at now, I wonder?" whispered Oaklands
to me.

"Manslaughter, most likely," replied Archer (who was seated next me, and
had overheard the remark), "Wilford appears so thoroughly satisfied with
himself; that was just the way in which he looked the morning he winged
Sherringham, for I saw him myself."

"Send me down the claret, will you, Curtis?" asked Wilford. "Punch is a