He was a singular-looking man, no particular age or individuality. Some of Jasper's friends were often curious as to where Jasper had picked him up, but Jasper always evaded the question or put it by with some jest, and Scrivell's antecedents remained a mystery. That he was a devoted and never tiring servant was palpable to all; in Jasper's presence he seemed to live only to obey his will and anticipate his wishes. Now, at the first touch of Jasper's hand, the man started and sat bolt upright, screening his eyes from the light and staring at Jasper expectantly. "Awake, Scrivell?" asked Jasper. "Yes, sir, quite," was the reply; and indeed he looked as if he had been on the alert for hours past. "That's right. I want you. Get up and dress and come into the next room. I'll leave the candle." "You needn't, sir," was the reply. "I can see." Jasper nodded. "I believe you can--like a cat," he said, and carried the card with him. In a few minutes--in a very few minutes--the door opened and Scrivell entered. He looked wofully thin and emaciated, was dressed in an old but still respectable suit of black, and might have been taken for an old man but for the sharp, alert look in his gray eyes, and the sandy hair, which showed no signs of gray. Jasper was sitting before his dressing-table opening his letters, which he had carried in from the other room. "Oh, here you are," he said. "I want you to go out." Scrivell nodded. "Do you know King's Hotel, Covent Garden?" asked Jasper. "King's? Yes, sir." "Well, I want you to go down there." He paused, but he might have known the man would not express any surprise. "Yes, sir," he said, as coolly as if Jasper had told him to go to bed again. "I want you to go down there and keep a look-out for me. A gentleman has just driven there, an old man, rather bent, with long white hair. Understand?" "Yes," was the quiet reply. "He will probably go out the first thing, quite early. I want to know where he goes." "Only the first place he goes to?" was the question. Jasper hesitated. "Suppose you keep an eye upon him generally till, say one o'clock, then come back to me. I want to know his movements, you understand, Scrivell!" "I understand, sir," was the answer. "Any name?" Jasper hesitated a moment, and a faint color came into his face. Somehow he was conscious of a strange reluctance to mention the name--her name; but he overcame it. "Yes, Etheridge," he said, quietly, "but that doesn't matter. Don't make any inquiries at the hotel or elsewhere, if you can help it." "Very good, sir," said the man, and noiselessly he turned and left the room. Little did Stella, dreaming in the cottage by the sweet smelling meadows and the murmuring river, think that the first woof of the web which Jasper Adelstone was spinning for her was commenced that night in the grim chambers of Lincoln's-inn.