“The sciences,” he answered, quietly. “There are many torches lit which need strong hands to carry them forward.”
Lois leaned across the table. As yet she had scarcely spoken, but she had listened intently to his every word.
“Which of the sciences, Mr. Saton?” she asked, a little breathlessly.
He smiled at her, and hesitated a moment before answering.
“There are so many,” he said, “which are equally fascinating, but I think that it is always the least known which is the most attractive. When I spoke, I was really thinking of one which many people would scarcely reckon amongst the orthodox list. I mean occultism.”
There was a little murmur of interest. Saton himself, however, deliberately turned the conversation. He reverted to a diplomatic incident which had come to his notice when in Brazil, and asked Lord Penarvon’s opinion concerning it.
“By the bye,” the latter asked, as their conversation drew toward a close, “how long did you say that you had been in England, Mr. Saton?”
“A very short time,” Saton answered, with a faint smile. “I have been something of a wanderer for years.”
“And you came from?” Rochester asked, leaning a little forward.