The one picture in the room showed an old man in a conventional suit of armour.

He did not recognise the face or remember any like it...

He filled himself another bumper of claret, and followed it with a little brandy.

This latter was noble stuff, by which he would abide.

His sense of ease and security returned.
He pushed the papers farther over, sweeping the ring with them, and set his elbows on the table, a gentleman warm, dry, and content, but much befogged in the brain.
He raised his eyes to see the far door open and three men enter.