"I'm so excited. I feel just like a cinema actress," whispered Isobel. "So'm I. I've got one hand on my revolver and one on my card-case. Which d'you suppose will be wanted?" "Neither. You'll have to use the revolver hand to ring the bell with." "No, I shan't. Somebody's coming. Get ready to fly for your life.... Why, it's an ordinary butler!" It was Mustapha who was the cause of Allen's disappointed whisper--a transformed Mustapha, wearing instead of his gorgeous robes the sober black of the English serving-man, and looking so villainous that Allen wondered for one moment whether he ought not to have brought his revolver in real earnest. "Er--" said Isobel, "is Mr.--er...." Mustapha, casting one glance of appraising admiration over her, did not wait for more. Bowing low to Allen he signified by a sign that they were to await his return, and disappeared round the angle of the house. "I--I hope it's all right," whispered Isobel a little nervously. "We can still escape," Allen pointed out. "No,--I'm going through with it. But--it _was_ a black man!" "Very," said Allen. "Probably he'd look less of a villain in his native dress." "I hope so, I'm sure." On a lawn at the south side of the house stood two long chairs above which the blue smoke from two pipes curled heavenwards. On one lay Bill, with the faithful Lucy still curled up at his feet; on the other was the _soi-disant_ Mr. Wentworth. Both had changed from the ceremonious raiment of the previous day, and now appeared in the rôle of gentlemen of leisure. Bill was gorgeous in a red-and-black blazer, white trousers, and brown-and-white canvas shoes; but Alf--as befitted the lord of the Manor--outshone him by far. He had a straw hat with a gaudy black-and-yellow ribbon; a Norfolk coat in the bold black-and-white check; and trousers and shoes like Bill's. A stiffly-starched collar nestled furtively behind a satin tie of aggressive color and immutable form. But the crowning glory of the whole get-up was a strange garment--a cross between a cummerbund and a dress-waistcoat--which encircled his middle and supported a gold albert watchchain ornamented with many dangling seals. By the side of each chair stood an inlaid stool bearing each an enormous flagon of silver. As Mustapha approached the little group, an arm appeared from each chair, and the two flagons were simultaneously lifted, were inverted for a space and were replaced simultaneously on the stools. Bill's voice spoke ecstatically. "Bit of all right, eh?" Alf grunted. Not even his consciousness of sartorial perfection could cheer him up. He was brooding darkly on the probable results of the liberty he had taken with the Davies family, and was fast working himself into a panic. All his experience of Eustace's enchantments filled him with profound misgivings; and in the circumstances Bill's soulless and unsympathetic delight in the ephemeral pleasures of the moment infuriated him.