re
that was such a part of his life, and was also afraid that during his
absence someone might gain access to the room, in spite of the elaborate
bars that he had caused to be placed upon the door.

He was quite conscious that this would tell them nothing. It was true
that the portrait still preserved, under all the foulness and ugliness
of the face, its marked likeness to himself; but what could they learn
from that? He would laugh at anyone who tried to taunt him. He had not
painted it. What was it to him how vile and full of shame it looked?
Even if he told them, would they believe it?

Yet he was afraid. Sometimes when he was down at his great house in
Nottinghamshire, entertaining the fashionable young men of his own rank
who were his chief companions, and astounding the county by the wanton
luxury and gorgeous splendour of his mode of life, he would suddenly
leave his guests and rush back to town to see that the door had not been
tampered with, and that the picture was still there. What if it should
be stolen? The mere thought made him cold with horror. Surely the world
would know his secret then. Perhaps the world already suspected it.

For, while he fascinated many, there were not a few who distrusted him.
He was very nearly blackballed at a West End club of which his birth and
social position fully entitled him to become a member, and it was said
that on one occasion when he was brought by a friend into the
smoking-room of the Churchill, the Duke of Berwick and another gentleman
got up in a marked manner and went out. Curious stories became current
about him after he had passed his twenty-fifth year. It was rumoured
that he had been seen brawling with foreign sailors in a low den in the
distant parts of Whitechapel, and that he consorted with thieves and
coiners and knew the mysteries of their trade. His extraordinary
absences became notorious, and, when he used to reappear again in
society, men would whisper to each other in corners, or pass him with a
sneer, or look at him with cold searching eyes, as though they were
determined to discover his secret.

Of such insolences and attempted slights he, of course, took no notice,
and in the opinion of most people his frank debonair manner, his
charming boyish smile, and the infinite grace of that wonderful youth
that seemed never to leave him, were in themselves a sufficient answer
to the calumnies, for so they termed them, that were circulated about
him. It wa