The solemn gravity of Stenson’s face did not relax in the slightest, as he murmured: 

“Count de Meza’s ’84, sir.”

“Right!  So long as it was the best we had.  You approve, Stafford, eh?”

Stafford nodded with something more than approval.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, simply.  “We admired Mr. Groves’s port.”

“He’s a good fellow.  I hope he’ll enjoy the sherry.  I shall take the first opportunity of calling and expressing my sense of his kindness—­No more?  Shall we have the coffee with the cigars in the billiard room?”

The footmen escorted them through the billiard-room to the smoking-room, only divided from it by a screen of Eastern fret-work draped by costly hangings.  There were inlaid tables and couches of exquisite workmanship, and a Moresque cabinet, which the butler unlocked and from which he took cigars and cigarettes.

Sir Stephen waved them to seats, and sank into a low chair with a sigh of satisfaction and enjoyment.  The footmen placed the exquisite coffee-service of Limoges enamel on one of the tables, and, as they left the room, Howard, as if he could not help himself, said: 

“This is a veritable Aladdin’s Palace, Sir Stephen!  Though I can imagine that fabulous erection cannot have been as comfortable as this.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said.  “But do you like it?” he put in, with a shrewd gleam in his eyes, which could be keen as well as brilliant and genial.  “I fancy you think it too fine—­eh, Stafford?” He laid his hand on Stafford’s knee with a somewhat appealing gesture and glance.  “I’ve seen a doubt on your face once or twice—­and, by George! you haven’t seen half the place yet.  Yes, Mr. Howard, I’ll admit that it is rather luxurious; that’s the result of giving these new men carte-blanche.  They take you at your word, sir.  I’ll own up I was a little surprised to-day; for I told them to build me a villa—­but then I wanted thirty or forty bedrooms, so I suppose they had to make it rather large.  It seemed to me that as it overlooks the lake it ought to be after the style of those places one sees in Italy, and I hinted that for the interior an Oriental style might be suitable; but I left them a free hand, and if they’ve overdone it they ought to have known better.  I employed the men who were recommended to me.”

There was a pause for a moment.  Stafford tried to find some phrase which would conceal his lack of appreciation; and his father, as if he saw what was passing through Stafford’s mind, went on quickly but smoothly: 

“Yes, I see.  It is too fine and ornamental.  But I don’t think you’ll find that the people who are coming here tomorrow will agree with you.  I may not know much about art and taste, but I know my world.  Stafford—­Mr. Howard—­I’ll make a clean breast of it.  I built this place with an object.  My dear sir, you won’t think me guilty of sticking it up to please Stafford here.  I know his taste