"Not in the least," answered Spencer, speaking less seriously than he felt, he did not quite know for what reason, unless it was that with a man of his friend's calibre, he always had a tendency to discuss things lightly. "No, I don't think you have exaggerated a bit this time; so many of your swans have been geese, but this is a real swan, at last. She is very lovely; even in her terror she looked beautiful, and she has a peculiar, elusive charm. She makes you want to know more of her, and penetrate the mystery which seems to hover around her." "I can't say I see any mystery, myself." Esmond spoke rather sharply, for such a good-natured little man. "Perhaps it is too strong a word. But I take it, you know something of the _menage_, and can enlighten me on one point. What is her position there: paid companion, a passing guest, or does she share the flat with her cousin on some sort of terms?" It was a little time before Esmond answered. "I have never rightly got at that myself. Sometimes I have thought one thing, sometimes another. But I am pretty sure she is poor: in fact, she has admitted as much." "Poverty is relative after all, and it depends on how she was brought up. She seems to dress well, and that cannot be done without money." Yes, Esmond admitted that she was turned out well. But he either could not, or would not express any positive opinion upon the delicate subject of Miss Keane's finances. "Does she ever play? She didn't touch a card while we were there, only flitted about from table to table." No, Esmond had never seen her play since he had frequented the house. It was clear, therefore, she did not make any pocket-money out of gambling. He had to admit that she seemed to act as deputy hostess, and, he believed, wrote most of her cousin's notes; in other words, made herself useful. All this information, such as it was, he imparted, as it seemed to Spencer, with some reluctance. Perhaps his keen admiration prompted him to hide anything that served to show her in a dependent position. And Spencer desisted from any further cross-examination on this head. On one point, however, he was determined to elicit a positive expression of opinion from the cautious little man. "What is the mystery of the bounder cousin? You must admit he has cad stamped all over him, his speech, his person, his gestures." Tommy could establish no defence for the gentleman in question. "No, he is past criticism, I allow. The result of some _mesalliance_, I suppose; his mother a very common person doubtless. But then, many highly respectable people have skeletons like that in their cupboards." "The mystery is that he finds his way, cousin as he may be, into any decent house. Mrs L'Estrange we know to be a woman of good family. You would think she would lock and bolt the door against a creature like that. What is he supposed to be, if he has any profession beyond that of his intense bounderism?"