said he. "The
parson is explained." Then he fell thoughtful, his tone lost its note of
flippancy. "This gentleman who sends his compliments, does he send his
name?"

"He does not, sir; but I overheard it."

"Confide in me," Mr. Caryll invited her.

"He is a great gentleman," she prepared him.

"No matter. I love great gentlemen."

"They call him Lord Rotherby."

At that sudden and utterly unexpected mention of his half-brother's
name--his unknown half-brother--Mr. Caryll came to his feet with an
alacrity which a more shrewd observer would have set down to some cause
other than mere respect for a viscount. The hostess was shrewd, but not
shrewd enough, and if Mr. Caryll's expression changed for an instant,
it resumed its habitual half-scornful calm so swiftly that it would have
needed eyes of an exceptional quickness to have read it.

"Enough!" he said. "Who could deny his lordship?"

"Shall I tell them you are coming?" she inquired, her hand already upon
the door.

"A moment," he begged, detaining her. "'Tis a runaway marriage this,
eh?"

Her full-hearted smile beamed on him again; she was a very woman, with a
taste for the romantic, loving love. "What else, sir?" she laughed.

"And why, mistress," he inquired, eying her, his fingers plucking at his
nether lip, "do they desire my testimony?"

"His lordship's own man will stand witness, for one; but they'll need
another," she explained, her voice reflecting astonishment at his
question.

"True. But why do they need me?" he pressed her. "Heard you no reason
given why they should prefer me to your chamberlain, your ostler or your
drawer?"

She knit her brows and shrugged impatient shoulders. Here was a deal
of pother about a trifling affair. "His lordship saw you as he entered,
sir, and inquired of me who you might be."

"His lordship flatters me by this interest. My looks pleased him, let us
hope. And you answered him--what?"

"That your honor is a gentleman newly crossed from France."

"You are well-informed, mistress," said Mr. Caryll, a thought tartly,
for if his speech was tainted with a French accent it was in so slight a
degree as surely to be imperceptible to the vulgar.

"Your clothes, sir," the landlady explained, and he bethought him, then,
that the greater elegance and refinement of his French apparel must
indeed proclaim his origin to one who had so many occasions of seeing
travelers from Gaul. That might even account for Mr. Green's a