“Here’s a gentleman, sir, as can tell you, if any one can,” the porter said. All three turned round simultaneously to look at the person thus indicated. He was a young man of not very distinguished appearance, who came carelessly across the quadrangle in a rough coloured suit, with a pipe in his mouth. He came along swinging his cane, smoking his pipe, not thinking of what awaited him. However, those three pairs of eyes affected him unawares. He looked up and saw the little group, and instinctively withdrew his pipe from his mouth. He had just slipped it quickly into the pocket of his loose jacket, and was trying to steal through the party under cover of a messenger who was passing, when Sir William stepped forward and addressed him-- “This man tells me,” he said, “that you are a friend of my son, Paul Markham, and can perhaps give us some information where to find him.” While the father spoke, the two ladies looked at the young man with eyes half-investigating, half-imploring. He felt that they were making notes of his rough clothes, his pipe, which alas! they had seen going into his pocket, and of a general aspect which was not very decorous, and forming opinions unfavourable, not only to himself, but to Paul; while, at the same time, they were entreating him with soft looks to tell them where Paul was, and somehow--they could not tell how--to reassure them on his account. Young Fairfax, who was not perhaps a very elevated member of society in general, was of a sympathetic nature at least. He was greatly embarrassed by their looks, and confused between the two sides, giving the attention of his eyes to the ladies on the one hand, and that of his ears to Sir William on the other. He felt himself blush at the thought of his own unsatisfactory appearance--his worst clothes (for who expected to meet ladies _in August_?) and the pipe, which both literally and metaphorically burnt his pocket. Lady Markham and Alice took the redness which overspread the stranger’s face, not as referring to the state of his own appearance (though they were keenly sensible of that), but as a sign that he had nothing that was comforting or satisfactory to say of Paul--and their hearts sank. Young Fairfax coughed and cleared his throat. “Markham?” he said. “I will go and see if he is in his rooms.” “He is not in his rooms,” they said all together, a fact which the other knew very well. When Fairfax found this little expedient of his to gain time did not answer, he ventured on a bolder step. “If you will go to Markham’s rooms,” he said, “I think I can find him for you. I know where he will be; that is to say I know two or three men’s rooms--where he is very likely to be.”