This invitation pleased the marquis. It would give him the opportunity of meeting men whom he really wished to know. He thought he might accept it and go to the dinner as plain Mr. John Scott, of the National Liberator, without danger of being recognized as the Marquis of Arondelle.
For in the days of his family's prosperity he had been too young to enter London society.
And in these days of his adversity he was known to but a limited number of individuals in the city, and only by his common family name.
On the appointed evening, therefore, he put on his well-brushed dress-suit, spotless linen, and fresh gloves, and presented himself at Elmhurst House as well dressed as any West End noble or city nabob there.
He was shown up to the drawing-room by the attentive footman, who opened the door, and announced:
"Mr. John Scott."
And the young Marquis of Arondelle entered the room, where a brilliant little company of about half a dozen gentlemen and as many ladies were assembled.
The noble host came forward to welcome the new guest. His lordship met him with much cordiality, and immediately presented him to Lady ——, who received him with the graceful and gracious courtesy for which she was so well known.
Finally the minister took the young journalist across the room toward a very tall, thin, fair-skinned, gray-haired old gentleman, who stood with a pale, dark-eyed, richly-dressed young girl by his side.
They were standing for the moment, with their backs to the company, and were critically examining a picture on the wall—a master-piece of one of the old Italian painters.