The principal staircase was also of white marble with an Indian carpet of vivid crimson.

Palms reared their tall and graceful heads at intervals, shading statuary in the prevailing white marble.

Hangings of rose colour broke the sameness and accentuated the purity of the predominate whiteness.
Howard looked round with an admiration which obliterated his usual cynicism.
"Beautiful!" he murmured.
But Stafford frowned.

The luxury, the richness of the place, though chaste, jarred on him; why, he could not have told.
Suddenly, as they were making their way through the lines of richly liveried servants, a curtain at one of the openings was thrown aside, and a gentleman came out to meet them.
He was rather a tall man, with white hair, but with eyebrows and moustache of jet-black.

His eyes were brilliant but sharp, and he moved with the ease and alertness of youth.
There was something in his face, in its expression, which indicated strength and power; something in his manner, in his smile, peculiarly electric and sympathetic.
Howard stopped and drew back, but Stafford advanced, and Sir Stephen caught him by the hand and held it.
"My dear Stafford, my dear boy!" he said, in a deep but musical voice.
"I expected you hours ago; I have been waiting! But better late than never.