The room was not large, was wainscoted, and had a good many things on the walls: Donal noted two or three riding whips, a fishing rod, several pairs of spurs, a sword with golden hilt, a strange looking dagger like a flame of fire, one or two old engravings, and what seemed a plan of the estate.

At the one window, small, with a stone mullion, the summer sun was streaming in.

The earl sat in its flood, and in the heart of it seemed cold and bloodless.

He looked about sixty years of age, and as if he rarely or never smiled.

Donal tried to imagine what a smile would do for his face, but failed.