A more singular specimen of the genus homo, or one less in keeping with the place, had never made appearance inside the dining-hall of an English country gentleman.
As Williams had asserted, he was not much bigger than a page-boy; but for all that, he could not be less than forty years of age. In complexion he was dark as a gipsy, with long straight hair of crow’s-wing blackness, and eyes scintillating like chips of fresh-broken coal.
His face was of the Israelitish type, while his dress, with the exception of a sort of capote, which he still kept upon his shoulders, had something of a professional cut about it, such as might be seen about men of the law in the Latinic countries of Europe. He might be an avocato, or notary. In his hand he held a hat, a sort of wide-awake, or Calabrian, which on entering the dining-room he had the courtesy to take off. Beyond this there was not much politeness shown by him, either in aspect or action; for notwithstanding his diminutive person, he appeared the very picture of pluck—of that epitomised kind seen in the terrier or weasel. It showed itself not so much in swagger as in an air of self-reliance, that seemed to say, “I have come here on an errand that will be its own excuse, and I know you won’t send me back without giving me a satisfactory answer.”
“What is it?” asked the General, as if this very thought had just passed through his own mind.
The stranger looked towards Nigel, as much as to say, “Do you wish this young gentleman to be present?”
“That is my son,” continued the old soldier. “Anything you have to say need not be kept secret from him.”
“You have another son?” asked the stranger, speaking in a foreign accent, but in English sufficiently intelligible. “I think you have another son, Signor General.”
The question caused the General to start, while Nigel turned suddenly pale. The significant glance that accompanied the interrogatory told that the stranger knew something about Henry Harding.
“I have—or should have,” replied the General. “What do you want to say of him, and why do you speak of him?”
“Do you know where your other son is, Signor General?”