Though Mark was curious to know why and how Maitland had disappeared with his foreign friend, he had grown tired thinking over it, and fallen sound asleep. Nor did he hear Maitland as he entered the room and drew nigh his bedside. “What's wrong,--what has happened?” cried Mark, as he started up suddenly on his bed. “Nothing very serious, but still something worth waking you for; but are you sure you are awake?” “Yes, yes, perfectly. What is it all about? Who are in it?” “We are all in it, for the matter of that,” said Maitland, with a quiet laugh. “Try and listen to me attentively for a couple of minutes. The man your father brought back with him from Coleraine, believing him to be my friend Caffarelli, was not Cafifarelli at all!” “What! And he pretended to be?” “No such thing: hear me out. Your father spoke to him in French; and finding out--I don't exactly know how--that he and I were acquaintances, rushed at once to the conclusion that he must be Caffarelli. I conclude that the interview was not made more intelligible to either party by being carried on in French; but the invitation so frankly given was as freely accepted. The stranger came, dined, and was here in the drawing-room when we came back.” “This is unpardonable. Who is he? What is he?” “He is a gentleman. I believe, as well born as either of us. I know something--not much--about him, but there are circumstances which, in a manner, prevent me from talking of him. He came down to this part of the world to see me, though I never intended it should have been here.” “Then his intrusion here was not sanctioned by you?” “No. It was all your father's doing.” “My father's doing, if you like, Maitland, but concurred in and abetted by this man, whoever he is.” “I 'll not even say that; he assures me that he accepted the invitation in the belief that the arrangement was made by me.” “And you accept that explanation?” “Of course I do. I see nothing in it in the smallest degree improbable or unlikely.” “Well, who is he? That is the main point; for it is clear you do not wish us to receive him as a friend of yours.” “I say I 'd not have presented him here, certainly; but I 'll not go the length of saying he could n't have been known by any one in this house. He is one of those adventurous fellows whose lives must not be read with the same glasses as those of quieter people. He has knocked about the world for some five-and-twenty years, without apparently having found his corner in it yet. I wanted him,--what for, I shall probably tell you one of these days,--and some friends of mine found him out for me!” “One of your mysteries, Maitland,” said Mark, laughing. “Yes, 'one of my mysteries!” “Of what nation is he?”