The stranger then spoke in a softly modulated voice, in which there was occasionally a slight hesitation.
"I believe I am addressing Lord Bellingham, and—" he paused and looked towards the two girls, whose height and beauty made them appear much older than their sixteen and seventeen years.
"My granddaughters," said Lord Bellingham, with a wave of his hand.
The stranger made another bow, so elegant that the two girls summoned all their grace to return it properly, and then, accepting the chair which Lord Bellingham indicated, he continued:
"I venture the liberty of calling to see my young friend, Mr. Baskerville. I trust he is still here."
"Mr. Baskerville is not at present under this roof, but we are expecting him in momentarily," replied Lord Bellingham. "Mr. Baskerville is my grandson, and I beg to introduce myself as Lord Bellingham."
"I wish, my lord," replied the stranger, with dignity, "that I could respond to the courtesy you show me by introducing myself. But the exigencies of the times are such that I am compelled to forego, for political as well as personal reasons, giving my name. Mr. Baskerville, however, will recognize me as an officer and a gentleman."
Now, Lord Bellingham was not addicted to making friends with strangers, but he was so captivated with his unknown visitor's air and manners and speech, and his curiosity was so aroused, that his answer was in a very courteous tone:
"These are, indeed, troublous times, and I am more than willing to take my grandson's friend on trust. I may hazard, however, in spite of your excellent English, that you are a Frenchman, or a Spaniard perhaps, who finds himself in England, and whom prudence requires that he should conceal his name."
"I am neither French nor Spanish," coolly responded the stranger. "I was born in Scotland. But I have lately come from Paris."