At this moment Train entered, and after him came a tall young man, fair-haired and stalwart. He was handsome, but seemed to be ill at ease, and pulled his yellow mustache nervously as Train led him to the throne.
"This is my friend," said Leonard, presenting him. "He just managed to get here, for the fog is so thick----"
Here he was interrupted. "Madame!" cried Mrs. Taine, "what is the matter? Mr. Harmer, the water--wine--quick."
There was need of it. Mrs. Jersey had fallen back on the throne with a white face and twitching lips. She appeared as though about to faint, but restraining herself with a powerful effort she waved her hand to intimate that she needed nothing. At the same time her eyes were fastened, not so much on the face of the stranger as on a piece of yellow holly he wore in his coat. "I am perfectly well," said Mrs. Jersey. "This is only one of my turns. I am glad to see you, Mr.----"
"Brendon," said the stranger, who seemed astonished at this reception.
"George Brendan," interpolated Train, who was alive with curiosity; "have you seen him before, Madame?"
Mrs. Jersey laughed artificially. "Certainly not," she replied calmly, "and yours is not a face I should forget, Mr.----Brendon."
She uttered the name with a certain amount of hesitation as though she was not sure it was the right one. George nodded.
"My name is Brendan," he said rather unnecessarily, and Mrs. Jersey nodded in her most gracious manner.
"I bid you welcome sir; any friend of Mr. Train's is also my friend. If there is anything to amuse you here?" She waved her hand. "We are simple people. Fortune-telling--a little music and the company of my guests. Mrs. Taine, Mr. Harmer!" She introduced them, but every now and then her eyes were on the yellow holly. Brendan remarked it.