"No, you wouldn't," said Dunbar. "But that's one of his passions apparently, suddenly landing on some small village where there's a big house and bossing every one around him. . . . I shall never forget the day I first saw him. It was just about a year ago. "I had heard that some foreigner had taken Haxt, that was the big house in Milton that the Dombeys, the owners, were too poor to keep up. Soon all the village was talking. Furniture arrived, then lots of servants, Japs and all sorts. Then one evening going up the hill I saw him leaning over one of the Haxt gates looking into the road. "It was a lovely July evening and he was without a hat. You've spoken of his hair. I tell you that evening it was just flaming in the sun. It looked for a moment like some strange sort of red flower growing on the top of the gate. He stopped me as I was passing and asked me for a match." "That's what he asked me for," murmured Harkness. "Yes, his opening gambits are all the same. He offered me a cigarette and I took one. We talked for a little. I didn't like him at first, of course, with his hair, white face, painted lips, but--did you notice what a beautiful voice he has?" "I should think I did," said Harkness. "And then he can make himself perfectly charming. The beginning of your acquaintance with him is exactly like your introduction to the villain of any melodrama--painted face, charming voice, cosmopolitan, delightful information. The change comes afterwards. But I must hurry on, I'll never be done. I'm as bad as Conrad's Marlowe. Have another whisky, won't you?" "No, thanks," said Harkness. "Well, it wasn't long before he was the talk of the whole place. At first every one liked him. Odd though he looked you can just fancy how a man with his wealth and knowledge of the world would fascinate a country-side if he chose to make himself agreeable, and he _did_ choose. He gave parties, he went round to people's houses, sent his motors to give old ladies a ride, allowed people to pick flowers in his garden, adored showing people his collections. I happened to be in Milton during the rest of that year looking after my little property, and he seemed to take to me. I was up at Haxt a good deal. "Looking back now I can see that I never really liked him. I was aware of my caution and laughed at myself for it. I liked pretty things, you know, and I loved his jade and emeralds, and still more his prints. And he knew so much and was never tired of telling me and never seemed to laugh at one's ignorance.