the haughty master of the house refuse a request so
peculiar. But he only bowed, though in a surprised way that showed
his curiosity if no more was aroused. "My room and company are at your
disposal," said he, "but you will find nothing there to justify you in
your assertions."

"Let me at least make the effort," entreated my superior.

Mr. Blake smiling bitterly immediately led the way to the door. "The
man may come," he remarked carelessly as Mr. Gryce waved his hand in my
direction. "Your justification if not mine may need witnesses."

Rejoiced at the permission, for my curiosity was by this time raised to
fever pitch, I at once followed. Not without anxiety. The assured poise
of Mr. Blake's head seemed to argue that the confidence betrayed by my
superior might receive a shock; and I felt it would be a serious blow
to his pride to fail now. But once within the room above, my doubts
speedily fled. There was that in Mr. Gryce's face which anyone
acquainted with him could not easily mistake. Whatever might be
the mysterious something which the room contained, it was evidently
sufficient in his eyes to justify his whole conduct.

"Now sir," said Mr. Blake, turning upon my superior with his sternest
expression, "the room and its contents are before you; what have you to
say for yourself."

Mr. Gryce equally stern, if not equally composed, cast one of his
inscrutable glances round the apartment and without a word stepped
before the picture that was as I have said, the only ornamentation of
the otherwise bare and unattractive room.

I thought Mr. Blake looked surprised, but his face was not one that
lightly expressed emotion.

"A portrait of my cousin the Countess De Mirac," said he with a certain
dryness of tone hard to interpret.

Mr. Gryce bowed and for a moment stood looking with a strange lack of
interest at the proudly brilliant face of the painting before him, then
to our great amazement stepped forward and with a quick gesture turned
the picture rapidly to the wall, when--Gracious heavens! what a vision
started out before us from the reverse side of that painted canvas! No
luxurious brunette countenance now, steeped in pride and languor, but a
face--Let me see if I can describe it. But no, it was one of those faces
that are indescribable. You draw your breath as you view it; you feel as
if you had had an electric shock; but as for knowing ten minutes later
whether the eyes that so enthralled you were blue o