Lady Mary, recognising the orthodoxy of these sentiments, felt more friendly towards Father Riccoboni. He might be a Jesuit, but he was _bien pensant_. 'What I am afraid of is not a cat, but a mouse,' said Miss Willoughby, and the two other ladies admitted that their own terrors were of the same kind. 'What I am afraid of,' said the Prince, 'is a banging door, by day or night. I am not, otherwise, of a nervous constitution, but if I hear a door bang, I _must_ go and hunt for it, and stop the noise, either by shutting the door, or leaving it wide open. I am a sound sleeper, but, if a door bangs, it wakens me at once. I try not to notice it. I hope it will leave off. Then it does leave off--that is the artfulness of it--and, just as you are falling asleep, _knock_ it goes! A double knock, sometimes. Then I simply _must_ get up, and hunt for that door, upstairs or downstairs--' 'Or in my--' interrupted Miss Willoughby, and stopped, thinking better of it, and not finishing the quotation, which passed unheard. 'That research has taken me into some odd places,' the Prince ended; and Logan reminded the Society of the Bravest of the Brave. What _he_ was afraid of was a pair of tight boots. These innocent conversations ended, and, after dinner, the company walked about or sat beneath the stars in the fragrant evening air, the Earl seated by Miss Willoughby, Scremerston smoking with Logan; while the white dress of Lady Alice flitted ghost-like on the lawn, and the tip of the Prince's cigar burned red in the neighbourhood. In the drawing-room Lady Mary was tentatively conversing with the Jesuit, that mild but probably dangerous animal. She had the curiosity which pious maiden ladies feel about the member of a community which they only know through novels. Certainly this Jesuit was very unlike Aramis. 'And who _is_ he like?' Logan happened to be asking Scremerston at that moment. 'I know the face--I know the voice; hang it!--where have I seen the man?' 'Now you mention it,' said Scremerston, '_I_ seem to remember him too. But I can't place him. What do you think of a game of billiards, father?' he asked, rising and addressing Lord Embleton. 'Rosamond--Miss Willoughby, I mean--' 'Oh, we are cousins, Lord Embleton says, and you may call me Rosamond. I have never had any cousins before,' interrupted the young lady. 'Rosamond,' said Scremerston, with a gulp, 'is getting on wonderfully well for a beginner.'