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A man in the early sixties, still good-looking, notwithstanding a somewhat worn expression, looked up from his seat at the library table on Kingley's entrance. He nodded, but waited until the door was closed behind the retreating servant before he spoke. "Good of you to come, Nigel," he said. "Bring your chair up here." "Bad news?" the newcomer enquired. "Damnable!"
Nigel Kingley made his adieux and crossed the room. Immelan watched him curiously. "What is our friend Kingley's profession?" he enquired. "He has no profession," Sir Daniel replied. "He has never come into touch with the sordid needs of these money-grubbing days. He is the nephew and heir of the Earl of Dorminster." Immelan looked away from the retreating figure. "Lord Dorminster," he murmured.
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