"Well, the only difference is an old cousin died, and so I became Viscount Ralston. Why, my boy," with a little chuckling laugh, "I was as poor as a church mouse before that--poorer than your father. I painted bad pictures that would not sell, and lived in a tin shanty, hold hard--don't interrupt me, for we shall be at my diggings directly. I want you to understand that for the present, at Cleveland Terrace and at the Red House, I am still Mr. Ingram. I have my reasons, and some day you shall know them; but I want you to promise that you will not betray me." Then Noel, feeling utterly bewildered, and not a little mystified, nodded an assent to this, and the next moment they stopped before one of the big, gloomy-looking houses in Eaton Square. A tall, grey-haired old man admitted them. "I have taken you by surprise, Barham," observed Lord Ralston, carelessly; "and you see I have brought a friend." "Yes, my lord," returned Barham, tranquilly. "And I am glad to say there is a fire in the library; but there is something wrong with the dining-room chimney, and the workmen have been there." "All right. Just pay the cabman." And then Lord Ralston led the way to the library. It was a large room, and the firelight played fitfully over the carved oak furniture and red morocco chairs. The next moment the soft electric light enabled Noel to see his surroundings more plainly. Since his visit to the Red House his views had been considerably enlarged, and he at once told himself that this room beat Miss Harford's library hollow. Lord Ralston left him for a few moments. When he returned he said, with something of his old whimsical dryness,-- "I have just been interviewing my worthy housekeeper, and have left her metaphorically tearing her hair in the larder. She tells me that there is literally nothing in the house, so I suppose we may expect Barmecide's feast." Noel nodded. He was well acquainted with the story of "The Barber's Sixth Brother," and quite understood the allusion. But the youthful pangs of hunger were so overmastering that he murmured something about bread-and-cheese, and then coloured up to the roots of his hair, fearing that he had taken a liberty. "Oh, Mrs. Barham is a woman of resources; she will do better for us than that," was the indifferent reply. "But we must exercise our patience. I will take you up to your room now." And Noel presently found himself ensconced in a most luxurious chamber, with a bright fire, and everything prepared for his comfort.