A long moment I stared at this picture, little thinking on what I gazed; nor was it until a gentleman seated at a side table not far from the pair, rose hurriedly from his chair and with a guttural exclamation came towards us, that I remarked this third occupant of the gallery. When I did so, it was to discern that he was angry, and that my lord was taken aback and disturbed. It even seemed to me that my patron made a hasty movement to withdraw. Before he could do so, however, or I who, behind him barred the way, could take the hint, the gentleman in black, warned of our presence by the other's exclamation, turned to us, and still standing and holding the ribbons in his hands looked at us. He had a long sallow face, which seemed the sallower for the dark heavy wig that fell round it; a large hooked nose and full peevish lips; with eyes both bright and morose. I am told that he seldom smiled, and never laughed, and that while the best tales of King Charles's Court passed round him, he would stand abstracted, or on occasion wither the teller by a silent nod. The Court wits who dubbed my Lord Nottingham, Don Dismallo, could find no worse title for him. Yet that he had a well of humour, deeply hidden and rarely drawn upon, no one could doubt who saw him approach us, a flicker of dry amusement in his eyes giving the lie to his pursed-up lips and the grimness of his visage. "Your Grace is always welcome," he said, speaking in English a little broken and guttural. "And yet you might have come more _à propos_, I confess." "A thousand pardons, sir," my lord answered, bowing until his knee well-nigh touched the ground. "I thought that you were in your closet, sir, or I should have taken your pleasure before I intruded." "But you have news?" "Yes, sir." "Ha! And this person"--he looked fixedly at me--"is concerned." "Yes, sir." "Then, my Lord Buck--" and with that he turned and addressed the child who was still tugging at the ribbons, "_Il faut partir!_ Do you hear me, you must go? Go, _petit vaurien!_ I have business." The child looked at him boldly. "_Faut il?_" said he. "_Oui! oui!_ Say _merci_, and go." "_Merci, Monsieur_," the boy answered. And then to us with a solemn nod. "J'ai eu sa Majesté for my chevaux!" "Cheval! Cheval!" corrected the gentleman in black. "And be off." CHAPTER XXIV