“Rollo! I think Mr. Wraxall would like to have a look at the Talisman to-night, if you aren’t too tired.”
Rollo Dangerfield heaved himself up out of his chair, his six-foot height overtopping Mrs. Brent’s slight figure as he rose.
“Certainly, if Mr. Wraxall wishes it. We can go along now, if he cares about it.”
Eileen Cressage had caught the rapid interchange of talk.
“Oh! Are you going to tell him the Legend? May I come? I’d like to hear it.”
“What legend? About the Talisman? I haven’t heard it either,” said Westenhanger. “Do you mind my coming with you along with the rest?”
Rollo Dangerfield’s smile had a touch of wistfulness, in which it seemed curiously alien from the general cast of his features.
“Anyone who is interested will be welcome,” he said, with a touch of an old-fashioned courtesy which seemed to be so much in character in his case. And, crossing the room, he opened the door for the party to pass out under his guidance.
Chapter II
The group of Rollo Dangerfield’s followers diminished as it passed along the corridor. At the main entrance, Douglas and Cynthia slipped aside and went off by themselves down the broad steps into the gardens. Further on, beyond the great staircase, Mrs. Brent bade her companions good-night and turned into her room. Only five of his guests were left to follow the old man to the end of the corridor, where he threw open an unlocked door.