CHAPTER XIV.
Duson entered the sitting-room, noiseless as ever, with pale, passionless face, the absolute prototype of the perfect French servant, to whom any expression of vigorous life seems to savour of presumption.
He carried a small silver salver, on which reposed a card.
"The gentleman is in the ante-room, sir," he announced.
Mr.Sabin took up the card and studied it.
"Lord Robert Foulkes." "Do I know this gentleman, Duson ?" Mr.Sabin asked.
"Not to my knowledge, sir," the man answered.
"You must show him in," Mr.Sabin said, with a sigh.

"In this country one must never be rude to a lord." Duson obeyed.

Lord Robert Foulkes was a small young man, very carefully groomed, nondescript in appearance.

He smiled pleasantly at Mr.Sabin and drew off his gloves.
"How do you do, Mr.Sabin ?" he said.

"Don't remember me, I daresay.