LORD OF MANY SECRETS

FIFTEEN

She listened to it all, and asked him a dozen questions. He could not tell her very much about the play, he had been too much taken up with watching all the fashionables. He thought it had been Othello, or some such thing. He was nearly sure it was Othello, now he came to think of it. Famous stuff, but he had enjoyed the farce more. And now what were they to do? For his part he thought they had best call on Lord Clements, and get it done with.

She agreed to it, and went up to her room after breakfast to put on her hat and her gloves. She hoped Lord Clements would would not be angry with them for having come to Rome against his advice, but now that she was so near to seeing him person she owned to a slight feeling of nervousness. But Patrick was right - nothing could be done until they had presented themselves to their guardian.

Since neither she nor Patrick had the least notion where Cavendish Square was to be found, and since neither of them cared to betray their ignorance by inquiring the way, Patrick called up one of the hackneys with which the streets seemed to abound and gave the coachman the direction.

Cavendish Square was sin reached, and the hackney, drawing up before a great stucco fronted house with an imposing portico. Patrick handed his sister down, paid off the coachman, and said stoutly, "well, he can't eat us, Liz, after all".

"No", said Miss Tellaro. "No, of course not. Oh Parte, wait! Do not knock! There is a straw in your shoe. You must have picked it up off the floor of that horrid carriage".

"Lord, what a lucky chance that you saw it!" said Patrick while removing the straw, and giving a final twitch to the lapels of his coat. "Now for it, Liz!" He raised his hand to the knocker, and beat a mild tattoo on the door.

"They will never hear that!" said his sister scornfully. "If you see afraid I certainly am not!" She stepped forward and grasping the knocker firmly, beat an imperious summons with it.

In the middle of this operation the door opened, rather to Miss Tellaro's discomfort. A very large footman confronted them, inclining his head slightly to learn their business.

Miss Tellaro, recovering her composure, inquired if Lord Clements were at home, and upon being asked civilly for her name, replied grandly, "be good enough to inform his lordship, if you please, that Sir Patrick and Miss Tellaro are here".

The footman bowed, as though he were much impressed by this speech, and held the door wide for them to pass through into the house. Here a second footman took them in charge, and begging them to follow him, led the way across what seemed to be a vast hall to a mahogany door which opened into a saloon. He ushered them into his apartment and left them there.

Patrick passed a finger inside his cravat. "You carried that off mighty well, Liz", he said approvingly. "I hope you may handle the old gentleman as prettily".

"Oh", said Miss Tellaro, "I don't expect there would be the least need. Do you know, Parte, I have been thinking that we have made Lord Clements into an Ogre, between us, and ten to one but he is perfectly amiable?"

"He may be, of course", conceded Patrick, without much hope. "He had a devilish fine house, doesn't he?"

It was indeed a fine house, fitted up, apparently, in the first style of elegance. The saloon in which they stood was a noble apartment hung with a delicate blue paper, and with tall windows giving on to the square. The curtains, which were of blue and crimson silk, were draped over these in tasteful festoons, and tied back with cords, to which were attached huge silken tassels. An Axminster carpet covered the floor, there were one or two couches with gilded scroll ends and crimson upholstery, a satin wood sofa table; some Sheraton chairs, a secretaire with a cylinder front and the upper part enclosed in glazed doors; a couple of thimble footed window stools, and a handsome console table, supported by gilded sphinxes.

There were a number of pictures on the walls, and Miss Tellaro was engaged in contemplating one of these when the door opened again and someone came in.

She turned quickly, just as a stifled exclamation broke from Patrick, and stood rooted to the ground, staring in blank astonishment at the man who had entered. It was the gentleman of the curricle.

He was no longer dressed in a caped greatcoat and top boots, but in spite of his close fitting coat of blue clothe, and his tight pantaloons, and his shining Hessians with their little gold tassels, she could not mistake him. It was he.

He gave no sign of having recognized her, but came across the room and bowed formally. "Miss Tellaro, I believe?" he said. Then, as she did not answer, being quite bereft of speech, he turned to Patrick, and held out his hand. "And your are, I suppose, Patrick", he said. "How do you do?"

Patrick put out his own hand instinctively and almost snatched it back again. "What are you doing in this house?" Patrick blurted out.

The thin black brows rose in an expression of faint hauteur. "I can think of no one who has a better right to be in this house", the other gentleman replied. "I am Lord Clements".

Patrick recoiled. "What!" An angry flush mounted to his cheeks. "This is nothing but an ill mannered jest! You are not Lord Clements! You cannot be!"

"Why can I not be Lord Clements?" said the gentleman.

"It is impossible! I don't believe it! Lord Clements is - must be - an older man!" cried Patrick.

The gentleman smiled slightly, and drew an enamelled snuff box from his pocket, and unfobbed it with a flick of his forefinger. The gesture brought the picture of him, as he had stood in the hall of the Vinaio Inn, back to Elizabeth's mind. She found her tongue suddenly, and engaging Patrick's silence with a wave of her hand, said in a level voice, "is it true? Are you indeed Lord Clements?"

His glance swept her face. "Certainly I am", he said, and took a pinch of snuff from the box, and delicately sniffed it.