Lord Hartledon had nothing of the irresolution of Percival Elster, but was sufficiently decisive in character, prompt in action.
A noble room, this they were in, as many of the rooms were in the fine old mansion.

Lord Hartledon opened the inner door, and took them into another, to show them the portrait of his brother George--a fine young man also, with a fair, pleasing countenance.
"He is like Elster; not like you, Hartledon," cried a young man, whose name was Carteret.
"_Was_, you mean, Carteret," corrected Lord Hartledon, in tones of sad regret.

"There was a great family resemblance between us all, I believe." "He died from an accident, did he not ?" said Mr.O'Moore, an Irishman, who liked to be called "The O'Moore." "Yes." Percival Elster turned to his brother, and spoke in low tones.

"Edward, was any particular person suspected of having fired the shot ?" "None.

A set of loose, lawless characters were out that night, and--" "What are you all looking at here ?" The interruption came from Lady Kirton, who was sailing into the room with Maude.