“By all means,” the man answered, hurrying to the shelves. “You have, also, a wonderful rare collection of manuscripts, purchased from the Abbey St. Jouvain, and a unique Horace. If you will permit me.”
Wingrave spent half an hour examining his treasures, leaving his attendant astonished.
“A millionaire who understands!” he exclaimed softly as he resumed his seat. “Miraculous!”
Wingrave passed into the hall, and summoned his major domo.
“Show me the ballroom,” he ordered, “and the winter garden.”
The little man in quiet black clothes—Wingrave abhorred liveries—led him respectfully through rooms probably unequaled for magnificence in England. He spoke of the exquisite work of French and Italian artists; with a gesture almost of reverence he pointed out the carving in the wonderful white ballroom.
Wingrave listened and watched with immovable face. Just as they had completed their tour, Morrison approached.
“Mr. Lumley and Lady Ruth Barrington are in the library, sir,” he announced.
Wingrave nodded.
“I am coming at once,” he said.