"Giddy old things," said Dan gaily. "I hope they will take a fancy to me, as I shall do my best to charm them. Well?" "You must go now, Mr. Halliday, as I have much to do before taking an hour off." "Vincent works you too hard, Mildred," said Laurance impatiently, as he took up his cap, "you can't call a moment your own."
"I shall call two hours or so my own this afternoon," replied Mildred amiably, and sent the young men away quite happy, since there was a promising chance that Dan would gain his ends. "That's a delightful girl," said Dan, when the two were seated at dinner. "I should like to marry her if Lillian were not in existence."
"I'm glad that Lillian is, Dan, since I want to marry Mildred myself. Don't poach, you animal."
"I won't," promised Halliday generously, "I don't like dark hair. But it's no use arguing. Let us eat and drink, for I have to fascinate Mrs. Jarsell and her bosom friend. I'll get hold of that aeroplane, somehow."
"We are here for that purpose," said Laurance, determined to have the last word, and as Dan was hungry he let him have it. The Grange--at which they arrived late in the afternoon, the two men escorting the one girl--was a large, rambling mansion built of yellowish stone, its original color more or less washed out by rain and burnt out by sunshine. The surface of the massive walls was grimy with black and rough with lichens, while the broad, flat stones of the roof were covered with damp green moss. The house, although in two stories, was of no great height, and stood on the uttermost verge of the hill, which sloped abruptly down into the valley. The view should have been very fine, but sundry tall houses had been built round The Grange, which prevented the owner from enjoying the magnificent prospect. This shutting-in--according to the legend--was due to the malice of a disinherited brother in Jacobean times, who had created quite a village round about the estate so as to block out the view. But the present inhabitants did not mind much, for, as Mildred explained, both Miss Armour and Mrs. Jarsell stayed within doors a great deal. "In fact, Miss Armour is more or less paralyzed, and sits in a big chair all day, reading and knitting, and talking and playing Patience," said Mildred, as the trio turned into a small courtyard, and found themselves facing a squat door, set in a porch sufficiently massive to serve for the entrance to a mausoleum. An elderly maid, in an incongruous dress of brilliant scarlet, admitted them into a darkish hall, whose atmosphere, suggestive of a Turkish bath in a mild way, hinted that the house was heated by steam pipes, as indeed was the case. There were some carved boxes of black oak in the hall and three or four uncomfortable high-backed chairs, but the walls and floor were bare, and the general aspect was somewhat bleak. However, when the visitors were conducted along a narrow passage, ill-lighted and dismal, they were introduced to a large low-ceilinged room, richly and luxuriously and picturesquely furnished. The brilliant garb of the maidservant suited this room much better than it did hall or passage, and there was a suggestion of tropical splendor about the woman and the sitting-room, which revealed in Mrs. Jarsell a strong love of color, warmth, and light. Indeed, although there were three large windows looking out on to a garden, and immediately facing the door by which they had entered, yet the light which was admitted being insufficient--perhaps because of the wintry gloom--the apartment was brilliantly illuminated by six lamps. Three of these stood at one end of the room, and three at the other, on tall brass stands, and the light, radiating through opaque globes, filled the place with mellow splendor. The vivid scene it revealed was a strange and unexpected one to find in these barren wilds. What impressed Dan straight away, was the prevalence of scarlet. The walls were covered with brightly toned paper, the floor with a carpet of violently brilliant hue, and even the ceiling was splashed with arabesque designs, blood-red against the white background. The furniture was of black oak upholstered in satin of the same fiery tint, while the draperies were of a dense black, funereal in aspect. A large fire glowed on a wide hearth in a vermilion-tiled alcove, and the poker, tongs, shovels, and pincers were of brass. Also there were brass candlesticks, a tripod of the same alloy in which incense slowly smoldered and even brazen warming-pans of antique pattern were ranged on either side of the fireplace. Thus, the general color-scheme was of black, scarlet, and yellow. What with the barbaric hues, the warm atmosphere, and the faint scent of incense, Dan felt as though he had stumbled on the den of a magician, malicious and dangerous. But this may have only been an impression caused by coming suddenly into this tropical room out of the chill air and neutral-tinted landscape. Neither Mrs. Jarsell nor Miss Armour, however, carried their love of violent color into their personal attire, as both were arrayed--somewhat incongruously, considering the season--in unrelieved white. The former lady was tall and bulky and somewhat assertive in manner, with a masculine cast of countenance and watchful dark eyes. From the smooth olive texture of her skin, she had probably possessed jet-black hair, before age turned her still plentiful locks completely white. She was not, as Dan concluded, more than fifty, as she possessed great vitality, and gripped his hand in a vigorous, manly way, quite in keeping with her commanding looks. Her white gown was made perfectly plain; she did not display even a ribbon, and wore no jewellery whatsoever, yet her whole appearance was distinguished and dignified. Indeed, when she welcomed the young people she assumed something of a motherly air, but if the hint conveyed by the barbarically decorated room was to be taken, she was anything but maternal. Mrs. Jarsell, as Dan mentally confessed, was something of a puzzle; he could not place her, as the saying goes. Miss Armour had also an unusual personality, being the antithesis of her friend in looks and manner. To Mrs. Jarsell's massive assertiveness, she opposed a fragile timidity, and was as small of body as the other was large. Her oval, many-wrinkled face was the hue of old ivory, her features were delicate, and her small head drooped in a rather pensive manner. Her white hair, not so plentiful as that of Mrs. Jarsell, was smoothly arranged under a dainty cap of white lace, decorated, oddly enough, with diamond ornaments. And, indeed, she wore enough jewellery for both ladies; rings on her slender fingers, and chains round her neck, and bracelets on her wrists, with a belt of turquoise stones, a ruby brooch, and earrings of pearls. On a less refined person, this overloading of ornaments would have looked vulgar, but Miss Armour, although she glittered at all points like a heathen idol, preserved a calm dignity, which caused her sumptuous display to appear perfectly natural. It was very strange that such a mild-looking woman should deck herself out in this manner, so she, also, was a puzzle to Halliday's intelligence. Indeed, the two ladies, in their splendid room, suggested to Dan dreams of the Arabian Nights, and gave him the impression of being concerned in some gorgeous romance. Miss Armour, seated in the big chair which Mildred had mentioned, looked over Dan with mild, brown eyes, and evidently approved of his good looks. "I am glad to see you, Mr. Halliday," she said in a soft and musical voice, quite silvery in its sound. "To an old person, such as I am, the young are always welcome." Dan felt called upon to pay a compliment. "You don't look old," he said bluntly. "Well, now-a-days, sixty cannot be called old," said Miss Armour with a pretty laugh, "as I am assured that women of that age actually dance in London."
"The age-limit has been extended since Victorian times," laughed Laurance, who had seated himself near one of the windows beside Mildred. "Yes," assented Mrs. Jarsell, in deep tones suggestive of a mellow-sounding bell. "In those times, women went on the shelf at thirty-five, and lived again in their children. Now-a-days, there are no old people."
"Certainly not in this room," said Dan courteously. "You are Irish, I should say, Mr. Halliday," remarked Miss Armour, smiling, as she resumed her knitting of a red and white striped shawl; "only an Irishman could pay such a pretty compliment."
"My mother was Irish," admitted Dan amiably, "and I made a special journey to kiss the Blarney stone in the hope that it might oil my tongue." Mrs. Jarsell in her heavy way seemed amused. "You have certainly accomplished your purpose, Mr. Halliday. But what does a gay young man, as I see you are, do in this solitary neighborhood?" and her keen black eyes swept over him from head to foot inquiringly. "Ah," put in Freddy quickly, "that question brings out the reason of our visit to you, Mrs. Jarsell. Behold in my friend a lover."
"Delightful," cried Miss Armour with great animation, "and the lady?" "Miss Moon, the daughter of Sir Charles Moon."
"Moon? Moon?" murmured Miss Armour, as though she were invoking the planet. "I seem to have heard that name somewhere. Eliza?" she glanced at her friend. "Don't you remember the murder we read about some months ago?" replied Mrs. Jarsell heavily. "It was much talked about."