A frown passed over Mrs. Astley-Rolfe's face.
"He has not yet appeared. He sent in a message asking us to wait for him here. He is up to some freak obviously."
"It is certainly a strange medley of color," Tranter admitted. "Fortunately, I am not particularly susceptible—but to an artistic temperament I can understand that the effect would be acute. What extraordinary event can such a blaze be intended to celebrate?"
"I don't know," she returned, a little shortly. "He has told us nothing."
Her eyes strayed anxiously to the door. The movements of her hands were nervous.
"I wish he would come," she muttered—and stood away from them.
Tranter drew his companion across the room.
"Well?" he asked, smiling. "How do you like this somewhat showy welcome?"
"My friend," said Monsieur Dupont slowly—"into what manner of house have you brought me?"
"Copplestone is a curious fellow," Tranter replied. "I warned you to be prepared for something unusual."