Millicent remained standing with her veil down, while Tom Porter retired, closed the door, and, after giving notice of the arrival, went back into the hall, where Thisbe was standing in a very stern, uncompromising fashion. Sir Gordon's man wanted to arrange his white cravat, but his fingers were red, and for the same reason he was debarred from pushing the Brutus on his head a little higher, so that, unable to rearrange his plumage, he had to let it go. He walked straight up to Thisbe, stared very hard at her, breathing to match, and then there was a low deep growl heard which bore some resemblance to "How are you?" Thisbe was "Nicely, thank you," but she did not say it nicely; it was snappish and short. Mr Tom Porter did not seem to object to snappish shortness, for he growled forth: "Come below?" and added, "my pantry?" "No, thank you," was Thisbe's reply, full of asperity. "Won't you take anything--biscuit?" "No, I--thank--you," replied Thisbe, dividing her words very carefully; and Tom Porter stood with his legs wide apart and stared. "I would ha' been at sea, if it hadn't ha' been for the trouble yonder," he said, after a pause. "Ho!" Tom Porter raised his hand to scratch his head, but remembered in time, and turned it under his drab coat tail. "Very sorry," he said at last, without moving a muscle. "Thank you," said Thisbe sharply and then. "You needn't wait." "Needn't wait it is," said Tom Porter in a gruff growl, and giving one hand a sort of throw up towards his forehead, and one leg a kick out behind, he went off through a door, perfectly unconscious of the fact that Thisbe's countenance had unconsciously softened, as she stood admiring the breadth of Tom Porter's shoulders and the general solidity of his build. Meanwhile Millicent stood waiting until a well-known cough announced the coming of Sir Gordon, who entered the room and with grave courtesy placed a chair for his visitor. "I expected you, Mrs Hallam," he said with a voice full of sympathy; and, as he spoke, he remained standing. Millicent raised her veil, looked at him with her handsome face contracted by mental pain and with an angry, almost fierce glow in her eyes. "You expected me?" she said, repeating his words with no particular emphasis or intonation. "Yes; I thought you would come to an old friend for help and counsel at a time like this." A passionate outburst was ready to rush forth, but Millicent restrained it, and said coldly: "My old friend--my father's old friend." "Yes," he replied; "I hope a very sincere old friend." "Then why is my poor injured husband in prison?" There was a fierce emphasis in the words that made Sir Gordon raise his brows. He looked at her wonderingly, as if he had not expected his visitor to take this line of argument. Then he pointed again to a chair. "Will you not take a seat, Mrs Hallam?" he said gently. "You have come to me then for help?"