There was to be no fuss, but it was noteworthy that several of Leycester's favorite dishes figured in the menu, and that there was a special Indian curry for Lord Charles.
Leycester did not descend to the dining-room till ten minutes after the time, and the greeting between father and son was characteristic of the two men. The earl put out his thin, white hand, and smiled gravely.
"How do you do, Leycester," he said. "Will you have the Lafitte or the Chateau Margaux? The weather is fine for the time of year."
And Leycester said, quietly:
"I hope you are well, sir. The Margaux, I suppose, Charles? Yes, we have had some good weather."
That was all.
He went to his place and sat down quietly and composedly, as if he had dined with them for months without a break, and as if the papers had not been chronicling his awful doings.
The earl could not suppress a pang of pity as he glanced across at the handsome face and saw how worn and haggard it looked, and he bent his head over his soup with a sigh.
Leycester looked round the table presently, and then turned to the countess.
"Where is Lenore?" he asked.