Mr. Merridrew was quite sure that he could manage alone and settled down to his task. The Marquis presently left him and crossed the great hall, one of the wonders of Mandeleys, the walls of which were still hung with faded reproductions, in ornate tapestry, of mediaeval incidents. From somewhere amongst the shadows came Gossett, who gravely took up his stand outside the library. As though with some curious prescience of the fact that this was an unwelcome visitor, his bow, as he threw open the door, was lower even than usual. "Shall I light the lamp, your lordship?" he asked. The Marquis glanced towards the oriel windows, through which the light came scantily, and at the figure of James Borden, advancing now from somewhere in the dim recesses of the room--an apartment which remained marvellously little altered since the days when it had contained the laboriously collected books of a Franciscan order of Monks. "Perhaps it would be as well, Gossett," his master assented. "You wish to see me?" he added, turning towards his visitor. James Borden had come posthaste from London, acting upon an impulse which had swept him off his feet. All the way down he had been the prey to turbulent thoughts. A hundred different ways of conducting this interview had presented themselves before him with such facility that he had come to look upon it as one of the easiest things on earth. Yet now the moment had arrived he was conscious of an unexpected embarrassment. The strange tranquillity of the house and this stately apartment, the personality of the Marquis himself--serene, slightly curious, yet with that indefinable air of good-breeding which magnifies the obligations of a host--had a paralysing effect upon him. He was tongue-tied, uncertain of himself. All the many openings which had come to him so readily faded away. "My name is Borden," he announced. "I have come here, hoping for a short conversation with you." The Marquis made no immediate reply. He watched the lighting of a huge lamp which Gossett silently placed in the middle of an ebony black writing table, to the side of which he had already drawn up two high-backed chairs. "Is there anything else your lordship desires?" the man asked. "Not at present, Gossett. I will ring." The Marquis pointed towards one of the chairs, and seated himself in the other. "I shall be very glad to hear of your business with me, Mr. Borden," he said courteously.