--cordially met the advance. He announced, in reply to the captain's
inquiry, that the witnesses (Mrs. Inchbare and Bishopriggs) were waiting
below until they were wanted, in the housekeeper's room. Had there been
any difficulty in finding them? Not the least. Mrs. Inchbare was, as
a matter of course, at her hotel. Inquiries being set on foot for
Bishopriggs, it appeared that he and the landlady had come to an
understanding, and that he had returned to his old post of headwaiter at
the inn. The captain and Mr. Moy kept up the conversation between them,
thus begun, with unflagging ease and spirit. Theirs were the only voices
heard in the trying interval that elapsed before the next knock was
heard at the door.

At last it came. There could be no doubt now as to the persons who might
next be expected to enter the room. Lady Lundie took her step-daughter
firmly by the hand. She was not sure of what Blanche's first impulse
might lead her to do. For the first time in her life, Blanche left her
hand willingly in her step-mother's grasp.

The door opened, and they came in.

Sir Patrick Lundie entered first, with Anne Silvester on his arm. Arnold
Brinkworth followed them.

Both Sir Patrick and Anne bowed in silence to the persons assembled.
Lady Lundie ceremoniously returned her brother-in-law's salute--and
pointedly abstained from noticing Anne's presence in the room. Blanche
never looked up. Arnold advanced to her, with his hand held out. Lady
Lundie rose, and motioned him back. "Not _yet,_ Mr. Brinkworth!" she
said, in her most quietly merciless manner. Arnold stood, heedless of
her, looking at his wife. His wife lifted her eyes to his; the tears
rose in them on the instant. Arnold's dark complexion turned ashy pale
under the effort that it cost him to command himself. "I won't distress
you," he said, gently--and turned back again to the table at which Sir
Patrick and Anne were seated together apart from the rest. Sir Patrick
took his hand, and pressed it in silent approval.

The one person who took no part, even as spectator, in the events
that followed the appearance of Sir Patrick and his companions in the
room--was Geoffrey. The only change visible in him was a change in
the handling of his walking-stick. Instead of tracing patterns on the
carpet, it beat a tattoo. For the rest, there he sat with his heavy
head on his breast and his brawny arms on his knees--weary of it by
anticipation before it had begun.

Sir Pa