That was the first time he had seen the banquet-hall under such conditions, and he blinked at the vista displayed as the big double doors were drawn apart.
The dinner-table in the distance was ablaze under its branching candelabra, in each of which were burning numberless wicks under silken shades. The silver girandoles above the butler's buffet beyond it were no less dazzling, while everywhere else a warm dusk deepened into almost absolute darkness wherever the glow from the still log-fires could not penetrate.
The table appointments seemed to be the most splendid the castle could boast. Carthew could catch the dull glint of gold plate on the buffet. Eight heavy, high-backed chairs of black carved oak were set about the white oasis that the table made on the dark floor. Behind each stood a silent footman, tartan-kilted, tanned of face above a spacious white shirt-front which showed off an old-fashioned doublet handsomely.
Slyne was leading the Duchess of Dawn to her seat. Lord Ingoldsby had Sallie upon his arm: and Mr. Jobling hovered close at her other shoulder. She sat down between them, with his sullen lordship on her right facing the effusive lawyer. And Carthew, following, noticed that she looked round once or twice in his own direction. Captain Dove, a queer-looking figure, had seated himself at Slyne's side, opposite the duchess, and Herries took the chair between him and Lord Ingoldsby, leaving Carthew next the duchess.
The piper made his appearance according to the time-honoured tradition, and marched twice round the table while the oaken rafters overhead rang to the dirl of the dance he drew from his chanter. It was undoubtedly a picturesque if somewhat deafening preliminary to dinner, thought Carthew, looking on much interested at the ceremonial which should have been his prerogative instead of Sallie's. And, as the man withdrew to the inner corridor, Carthew encountered Captain Dove's furtive glance.
But it fell instantly, and the old man went on contemplatively crumbling the roll before him. He seemed to be in a somewhat somnolent mood. It occurred to Carthew that he must have been drinking a good deal before dinner.
A brisk conversation had been begun at Sallie's end of the table, where Mr. Jobling and Lord Ingoldsby were both talking to her at once. Slyne was entertaining the duchess. Carthew exchanged a casual remark or two across the table with Herries and then was drawn into a laughing discussion with the duchess, in which Slyne also took part, suave but by no means friendly toward Carthew. And so course of the stately dinner succeeded course.
More than once, Carthew wished that it were well over. There seemed to be something in the air that affected his nerves unpleasantly. His eyes were always meeting Sallie's—and it seemed to him that it was costing her also no little effort to maintain any interest in the trivialities of the table.
He felt sure that both Captain Dove and Slyne had some secret on their minds. But whether that affected her and him he had no means of finding out. The coming of El Farish had further complicated a situation already complicated almost beyond his mental powers. He felt quite impotent to cope with it, under the added handicap of his promise to Sallie. He felt as though his promise in some sense made him a party to the unspeakably cruel deception which must have been practised on her, and that she might perhaps be justified in blaming him when she should find out—as she surely must—that her presence there was no more than part of a fraudulent masquerade. He was afraid to think how she might deal with him on that score when he should offer her, as he intended to do whenever he should find himself free to speak, himself—and his earldom, for what that was worth.
It suddenly occurred to him that he might find out something concerning El Farish from Captain Dove. All the others but Herries and he were busy. Carthew spoke to Herries across the table.