Mrs. Lorraine had turned somewhat pale, and had sat gazing at Phil ever since he had entered, very much as one might gaze at one returned from the dead. She had not moved or spoken, nor did she seem capable of doing either. Ethel was staring hard at Maud and the stranger, her round eyes full of astonishment. Miss Marjory alone was equal to the occasion—as when was she not? ‘Mr. Torwood!’ she exclaimed, rising and advancing with her most gracious smile, ‘this is an unexpected pleasure. Mr. Torwood, senior, was one of my best and most intimate friends, and I am delighted to make the acquaintance of the son, whom I have not seen since he was a baby in long-clothes.’ ‘He has grown a little since then, has he not?’ said Phil, with his merry, mischievous smile (which made him more like Maud than ever), as he shook hands with Miss Marjory. The ice thus broken, the remaining ladies were presented, and the party sat down to breakfast—Tor and Miss Marjory, as usual, making talk, to cover the unwonted silence of the others. There was no mistaking the puzzled look on the faces round the table. Phil, of course, was all ‘on the grin and the giggle,’ as Maud afterwards described it, and was so bubbling over with secret amusement that it was all Tor could do to preserve a decent gravity, and address him in a natural way. Mrs. Lorraine could do nothing but look at the stranger, and from him to Maud and back again; and her face wore an expression of bewildered perplexity that was almost pathetic. Ethel’s eyes were abnormally round; and Maud sat as if tongue-tied. She did not even wish to think; but she could not rid herself of the presentiment that some startling revelation was imminent. ‘Where is Signor Pagliadini?’ she asked presently, remembering for the first time their guest of the previous evening. Phil sniggered audibly. ‘He seems to have taken to himself the wings of the morning,’ answered Tor readily. ‘His room was empty as I came down. He’s an odd chap. Perhaps he’s off to Meredith’s again. He’s always doing something ridiculous.’ Here he looked severely at Phil. ‘I never thought Signor Pagliadini at all ridiculous,’ observed Maud, by way of keeping up the conversation. ‘He always seemed dignified and self-possessed.’ ‘So does a jackass at times,’ returned Tor. Whereat Phil choked in a way which drew the eyes of the whole table upon him. Tor felt that this state of things could not further be prolonged; but his instinct of mischief had been aroused, and he was determined to get what amusement he could out of the situation. ‘What makes you stare so at Mr. Torwood, Maud?’ he asked suddenly. ‘You hardly ever seem to me to take your eyes off his face.’ Maud coloured vividly, and looked daggers at her wicked brother. ‘Mademoiselle doubtless admires me greatly,’ said Phil, with his Signor Pagliadini bow and smile. ‘Mademoiselle flatters me more than I can say.’