He wore a purple doublet, slashed and paned, with great sleeves slit to show stitched linen beneath. A high collar clipped his throat about, and had a little starched ruff atop. Over it jutted his beard: none of your spade beards, this, but a rare stiletto, black as his close hair. He affected the round French hosen, puffed about the thighs, and the netherstocks known in England as Lord Leicester's, since only a man with as good a leg as his might reasonably wear them. There were rosettes upon his shoon, and knotted garters, rich with silver lace, below his knees. Starched handruffs were turned back from his wrists; he wore a jewel on one long finger, and about his neck a golden chain with a scented pomander hanging from it. He entered, and his quick glance took in Dominica at the table. He swept her a bow, and showed his even white teeth in a smile that was boyish and swift, and curiously infectious. "Well, met, señora! Has my rogue seen to your comfort? A chair for Don Manuel, Diccon!" The room seemed to be full of Sir Nicholas Beauvallet, a forceful presence. "I am ashamed to have stolen Señor Dangerfield's cabin from him," Dominica said, with a pretty smile bestowed upon Richard. He stammered a disclaimer. It was an honour, a privilege. Dominica, choosing to ignore Beauvallet at the head of the table, pursued a halting conversation with Dangerfield, exerting herself to captivate. No difficult task this: the lad looked with eyes of shy admiration already. "A strange, whimsical fellow ordered everything, señor," she said. "I cry pardon: it was not I threw your traps out on to the alleyway! I hope the master was not so incensed as was the man?" Dangerfield smiled. "Ay, that would be Joshua, señora. My man's a fool, a dolt. He is greatly enraged against Joshua. You must understand, señora, that Joshua is an original. I dare say he boasted to you of Sir Nicholas' exploits--always coupling himself with his master?" Dominica had nothing to say to this. Dangerfield plodded on. "It is his way, but I believe he is the only one of our company who takes it upon himself to censure his master. To the world he says that Sir Nicholas is second only to God; to Sir Nicholas' self he says----" he broke off, and turned a laughing, quizzical look on his chief. Sir Nicholas turned his head; Dominica had not thought that he was attending. "Ah, to Sir Nicholas' self he says what Sir Nicholas' dignity will not permit him to repeat," said Beauvallet, smiling. He turned back to Don Manuel, who had broken off in the middle of a sentence. "Your servant did not seem to hold him in so great esteem as he holds himself, señor," said Dominica. "Ah, no, señora, but then he threw my clothes out into the alley." "I doubt it was dusty," Dominica said demurely. "Do not let Sir Nicholas hear you say that, señora," Dangerfield answered gaily.