"You have good ears, Pendarvon. I heard nothing."
Mr. Pendarvon admitted that it was so.
"I have good ears."
He spoke with a dryness which seemed to be unnecessarily significant. He sounded the gong. There was a voice without.
"Henry!"
"Dear Mr. Shepherd. You may let him in."
The door swung open. There entered a tall man, with long grey hair, clad in the attire of a superior mechanic. He had a silent face--the face of a man who can be silent in very many tongues--and the eyes of a man who sees visions. He vouchsafed no sort of greeting, but at once sat down on one of the chairs which stood around the table.
Mr. Townsend looked at him as one looks at an object which one finds an interesting study.
"I trust, Mr. Shepherd, that you may have fortune in drawing the lot to-night."
Mr. Shepherd opened his lips, which hitherto he had kept hermetically closed. He spoke with a nasal twang which suggested a certain type of prayer-meeting.