They had been sitting in the firelight--the mystic magical capricious firelight--which made even that tawdry lodging-house parlour seem a pleasant chamber. The tea-tray was brought, and candles. Diana seated herself at the table, and made tea with the contents of a little mahogany caddy. "Don't pour out the tea just yet," said the Captain; "I expect a gentleman. I don't suppose he'll take tea, but it will look more civil to wait for him." "And who is this mysterious gentleman, papa?" "A Frenchman; a man I met while I was abroad." "_Really_ a gentleman?" "Certainly, Diana," replied her father, with offended dignity. "Do you think I should admit any person to my friendship who is not a gentleman? My business relations I am powerless to govern; but friendship is a different matter. There is no man more exclusive than Horatio Paget. M. Lenoble is a gentleman of ancient lineage and amiable character." "And rich, I suppose, papa?" asked Diana. She thought that her father would scarcely speak of the gentleman in a tone so profoundly respectful if he were not rich. "Yes, Diana. M. Lenoble is master of a very fair estate, and is likely to be much richer before he dies." "And he has been kind to you, papa?" "Yes, he has shown me hospitality during my residence in Normandy. You need not speak of him to your friends the Sheldons." "Not even to Charlotte?" "Not even to Charlotte. I do not care to have my affairs discussed by that class of people." "But, dear papa, why make a mystery about so unimportant a matter. "I do not make a mystery; but I hate gossip. Mrs. Sheldon is an incorrigible gossip, and I daresay her daughter is no better." "Charlotte is an angel, papa." "That is very possible. But I beg that you will refrain from discussing my friend M. Lenoble in her angelic presence." "As you please, papa," said Diana gravely. She felt herself bound to obey her father in this small matter; but the idea of this mystery and secrecy was very unwelcome to her. It implied that her father's acquaintance with this Frenchman was only a part of some new scheme. It was no honest friendship, which the Captain might be proud to own, glad to show the world that in these days of decadence he could still point to a friend. It was only some business alliance, underhand and stealthy; a social conspiracy, that must needs be conducted in darkness. "Why did papa summon me here if he wants his acquaintance with this man kept secret?" she asked herself; and the question seemed unanswerable. She pictured this M. Lenoble to herself--a wizened, sallow-faced Macchiavellian individual, whose business in England must needs be connected with conspiracy, treason, commercial fraud, anything or everything stealthy and criminal. "I wish you would let me go back to Bayswater before this gentleman comes, papa," she said presently. "I heard it strike seven just now, and I know I shall be expected early. I can come again whenever you like."