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"For instance," Gaston continued, "this tale of King Charles and Buckingham." He read it. "Now here is the scene as I picture it." In quick elliptical phrases he gave the tale from a different stand-point. Sir William stared curiously at Gaston, then felt for some keys in his pocket. He got up and rang the bell. Gaston was still talking. He gave the keys to Falby with a whispered word.
Then he went up the steps, followed by Jacques. He turned at the door to see the groom leading both horses off, and eyeing Saracen suspiciously. He laughed noiselessly. "Saracen 'll teach him things," he said. "I might warn him, but it's best for the horses to make their own impressions." "What name, sir?" asked a footman. "You are ?" "Falby, Sir."
In a few moments Falby placed a small leather box beside Sir William, and retired at a nod. Sir William presently said: "Where did you read those things?" "I do not know that I ever read them." "Did your father tell you them?" "I do not remember so, though he may have." "Did you ever see this box?" "Never before." "You do not know what is in it?" "Not in the least."
Here was the very man: with a proud, daring, homeless look, a splendid body, and a kind of cavalier conceit. It was significant of him, of his attitude towards himself where his work was concerned, that he suddenly turned and shut the door again, telling Falby, who appeared, to go to his room; and then said: "You are my debtor, Cadet I shall call you that: you shall have a chance of paying."
"Falby, look after my man Brillon here, and take me to Sir William." "What name, sir?" Gaston, as if with sudden thought, stepped into the light of the candles, and said in a low voice: "Falby, don't you know me?" The footman turned a little pale, as his eyes, in spite of themselves, clung to Gaston's. A kind of fright came, and then they steadied. "Oh yes, sir," he said mechanically.
Then he went up the steps, followed by Jacques. He turned at the door to see the groom leading both horses off, and eyeing Saracen suspiciously. He laughed noiselessly. "Saracen 'll teach him things," he said. "I might warn him, but it's best for the horses to make their own impressions." "What name, sir?" asked a footman. "You are ?" "Falby, Sir."
A moment after he stood in it, and the dazed Falby had gone, trying vainly to reconcile the picture on the wall, which, now that he could think, he knew was very old, with this strange man who had sent a curious cold shiver through him. But, anyhow, he was a Belward, that was certain: voice, face, manner showed it. But with something like no Belward he had ever seen.
A keen, cold look shot from under his straight brows. "Well?" he asked. "Will you step into the library, sir? Sir William will see you there." Falby tried to avoid his look, but his eyes were compelled, and Gaston said: "Falby, you will always hate to enter this room." Falby was agitated. "I hope not, sir." "But you will, Falby, unless " "Yessir?"
Left to himself, Gaston looked round on a large, severe room. Its use dawned on him. This was part of the life: Sir William was a Justice of the Peace. But why had he been brought here? Why not to the library as himself had suggested? There would be some awkward hours for Falby in the future.
Here was the very man: with a proud, daring, homeless look, a splendid body, and a kind of cavalier conceit. It was significant of him, of his attitude towards himself where his work was concerned, that he suddenly turned and shut the door again, telling Falby, who appeared, to go to his room; and then said: "You are my debtor, Cadet I shall call you that: you shall have a chance of paying."
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