As I said, he turned towards us from the window overlooking the terrace, and his manner was quite composed.
“Come to my room,” he said cheerily. “I have something of importance to say to you. You may come, too,” he added to the dwarf.
We went to the room where he had first received me when I came to the manor-house to present my silver buttons. I glanced warily around the room. There were the books and the maps on the walls, the table littered with papers, and the windows on one side flooding the center of the room with light. I was with my face to the window and the patroon stood opposite me.
“Sit.”
As he jerked out the short monosyllable, he waved his hand to Louis and me. The dwarf climbed into a huge chair and collapsed loosely into a heap till you would hardly have recognized in him a human being.
The patroon, however, made a more striking figure. He was dressed all in black, save for the crimson cap he always wore in the house, and the pale lace about his neck and wrists. His long black coat was trimmed in silver buttons artificially darkened till they were of a deep grey. His knee breeches and hose were also black. His shoes, instead of being fastened with huge silver buttons, as was the custom, were tied with narrow black ribbons. His black robes set off his silvery hair—prematurely white through trouble and disease—with superb effect. The only other bit of color about him was the gold head of his ebony cane, which he held between his thumb and forefinger, as if he were about to lift it lightly from the floor.
But all this description of how the patroon looked is the result of a moment’s glance and after recollection. For almost in an instant I forgot everything, and saw only those eagle eyes like jewels gazing at me. Was it the dove and the serpent over again? No, no, Patroon Van Volkenberg. You have a man to deal with this time. “Thy head or my head,” saith the King.
At last he spoke to me.
“If you are to cut a figure in the Red Band, you must know somewhat of my affairs. I spoke a while ago of a man Le Bourse.” He kept his eyes fiercely on me. “I have cause to hate this dog, for I hold him little better than a dog. If I ever have him in arm’s reach—you saw how I dealt with Ronald Guy?”
“Yes, I saw it. What is your grievance against Le Bourse?”