The talk drifted to the house and its architecture. "The whole house is a gem," said Alan Ford, enthusiastically, "but the staircase is a marvel. Nowhere in this country have I seen its equal. Your husband studied abroad, Mrs. Faulkner?" "For years. He took great pride in building this house, as he intended it to be a masterpiece." "Which it certainly is. Have you the plans of it? I should like to see them. Architecture is one of my hobbies." "No, I haven't the plans, Mr. Ford." "Oh, of course, they went to Mr. Stannard with the title deeds. Have you them, Mrs. Stannard?" "No, we never had them. I never thought about them." "Doubtless they are among Mr. Stannard's belongings. They must have been given to him. It doesn't matter. I oughtn't to take time to look at them, anyway. But one thing I do want to see, and that is the picture of Mrs. Faulkner that Mr. Stannard was engaged on at the time of his death. I'm told it is an example of his best work. May I have a glimpse of it?" Beatrice Faulkner looked a little flattered at this request, but she said only, "Certainly, Mr. Ford. It is in the studio." They all went in to see it, and Barry arranged the portrait on an easel and adjusted a light for it. "It is indeed splendid," said Ford, in genuine admiration. The portrait was excellent and lifelike, but more than that it was a work of art. Beatrice, in a gown of deep ruby velvet, with the great staircase for a background, was at her very best. Her face, always handsome, was imbued with a fine spiritual grace, and she looked the embodiment of happiness. The whole conception was, perhaps, a little idealised, but it was a magnificent portrait, and a stunning picture. "I'm so glad you have it, Beatrice," said Joyce, softly. "You've been so good and dear, and have done so much for us all ever since Eric's death, I'm happy for you to have this remembrance of him." "I'm glad, too," and Beatrice looked at the reflection of herself through misty eyes. Bobsy Roberts came in while they were looking at the portrait, and he, too, was charmed with its beauty. "That staircase makes a wonderful setting. I'm a fancier of staircases, and I think this one beats any I ever saw." "A fancier of staircases, what do you mean?" asked Natalie. "Yes, I've studied architecture, more or less, but the stairs have always especially interested me. I've just run across an old book, called 'Staircases and Steps,' and it's most interesting." "I agree with you," said Alan Ford. "And the staircase here is a gem. That's why I wanted to see the plans of the house." "Mayn't we see them?" asked Bobsy, turning to Joyce. "Why, I haven't them, Mr. Roberts. Perhaps they're among my husband's belongings, but I've never seen them."