“You seem such exact opposites. You are perfectly open, impulsive, not to say impetuous. If asked for your opinion, you blurt it out at once, sometimes without very deep thought, if you will forgive me for saying so, as I have often known you to alter or modify it as you go along. Mr. Craig is so different. Behind that smiling urbanity is an intense reserve, a profound caution. Somehow, if you ask him a straightforward question, his answer is so fenced about with subtleties that you don’t feel satisfied.” Lydon laughed heartily. The girl was very frank, even to the point of indiscretion. But she had certainly judged his friend pretty shrewdly. Even those who loved him and admired his very considerable gifts were forced to admit that there was a good deal of the Jesuit about this young descendant of diplomatic ancestors. They had the longest talk they had ever enjoyed together that evening in the almost empty lounge. As she prattled gaily along, with that frankness which was natural to her, he learned a good deal about the rubicund Howard Stormont himself. He was engaged in business, a very busy man and possessed of boundless energy. He was not fond of London life, and so far as was compatible with his business interests, played with great gusto the rôle of country gentleman. He had purchased a charming place some five years ago, and was never happier than when strolling around Effington village in his country tweeds, and chatting familiarly with the inhabitants. This estate had been acquired from an impoverished and hard-living young sprig of the nobility, a grandson of the Earl of Sedgemere, who had originally owned the fine seat known as Effington Hall. Under his short tenure, the revenues which should have gone to the upkeep of the property had been diverted to gambling and riotous living. The once big estate had been disposed of bit by bit. Stormont, the wealthy man of business, had soon altered this. The mansion and estate had been vastly improved, and pretty Effington village had been renovated out of all recognition. Upon the completion of his purchase, he had given a donation of five hundred pounds towards the restoration of the exquisite thirteenth-century church with its grey square tower, such a well-known landmark in the Surrey landscape. In the “county” he was highly respected for his generosity and magisterial work, for very soon after his purchase of Effington he had been put upon the roll of Justices of the Peace for the county of Surrey. So, somewhat to his surprise, Lydon learned that this homely, rather commonplace-looking man, whom his friend Craig described as an aggressive profiteer, was a person of importance in business circles, and not altogether undistinguished in the more select sphere of county life.