"Mr Masters?" Yes, Mr Masters was at home, and a slipshod girl conducted him into a small room on the ground floor, smelling strongly of smoke, and brightly lit. A tall young man, who was sitting over the fire, came forward with a little shy awkwardness, which at once recalled Kitty to Ibbetson, and muttered something about being sorry he should have had the trouble of calling twice. Jack had an easy kindliness of manner which generally put people at their ease, but this young fellow was as undoubtedly awkward as he was thin and dark, and though evidently interested in hearing news of his family, it did not seem as if it would be within the bounds of possibility to get him to talk freely. Jack, himself, conscious that he was receiving very little that was definite in the way of those first impressions from which he had hoped so much, could hardly help smiling at his own discomfiture. Except the smoke, there was nothing in the room or about Clive himself to assist him in discoveries, and yet he had not come all the way from Rome for nothing. "There's another link between us," he said pleasantly. "One of your heads, Mr Thornton, is an uncle of mine." "We don't see much of him down at the office." "No, perhaps not. But I suspect he looks sharply into things. Don't you feel him in the background?" "I haven't much to do with the heads," said the young fellow, looking uncomfortable. "Something pinches there," said Ibbetson inwardly, with his suspicions confirmed. Aloud he said, laughing, "I'm not in Mr Thornton's best books at this present moment, but I might be able to give you an introduction--where do you go at Christmas?" "Nowhere. I stay here." "Gloomy work, isn't it?" said Jack, compassionately. "It doesn't matter. I'd rather stop on here," said Clive, kicking a piece of coal. "Is your cousin in London--I mean Mr Trent?" "Oliver Trent?" glancing up in surprise. "Do you know him? Oh, you met him at the villa, I suppose. Yes, he is. At least I believe so. He and old--he and Mr Thornton are very thick." "He!" "Didn't you know it?" "Not I. But perhaps that's not to be wondered at. Still--" There was a pause while Ibbetson was musing on this information. He was conscious that it aroused a vague uneasiness in his mind, and yet, what should make him uneasy? Phillis's suspicions had not really touched him, and the half dislike which he at one time felt towards Trent had been as fleeting as other emotions of the same date. But there always remains the possibility that emotions may be revived. Clive volunteered the next remark. "I never knew such a fellow as Oliver for knowing people. You can't mention anybody but he can tell you all about them. And he seems to find out anything he pleases." It was the nearest approach to confidence that he had shown, and Jack followed it up with a plunge.