“Have you seen the famous portrait of the first Lady Loring, by Gainsborough?” he asked.  Without waiting for a reply, he took Penrose by the arm, and led him away to the picture—­which had the additional merit, under present circumstances, of hanging at the other end of the gallery.

“How do you like Romayne?” Father Benwell put the question in low peremptory tones, evidently impatient for a reply.

“He interests me already,” said Penrose.  “He looks so ill and so sad, and he spoke to me so kindly—­”

“In short,” Father Benwell interposed, “Romayne has produced a favorable impression on you.  Let us get on to the next thing.  You must produce a favorable impression on Romayne.”

Penrose sighed.  “With the best will to make myself agreeable to people whom I like,” he said, “I don’t always succeed.  They used to tell me at Oxford that I was shy—­and I am afraid that is against me.  I wish I possessed some of your social advantages, Father!”

“Leave it to me, son!  Are they still talking about the picture?”

“Yes.”

“I have something more to say to you.  Have you noticed the young lady?”

“I thought her beautiful—­but she looks a little cold.”

Father Benwell smiled.  “When you are as old as I am,” he said, “you will not believe in appearances where women are concerned.  Do you know what I think of her?  Beautiful, if you like—­and dangerous as well.”

“Dangerous!  In what way?”

“This is for your private ear, Arthur.  She is in love with Romayne.  Wait a minute!  And Lady Loring—­unless I am entirely mistaken in what I observed—­knows it and favors it.  The beautiful Stella may be the destruction of all our hopes, unless we keep Romayne out of her way.”

These words were whispered with an earnestness and agitation which surprised Penrose.  His superior’s equanimity was not easily overthrown.  “Are you sure, Father, of what you say?” he asked.

“I am quite sure—­or I should not have spoken.”

“Do you think Mr. Romayne returns the feeling?”

“Not yet, luckily.  You must use your first friendly influence over him—­what is her name?  Her surname, I mean.”

“Eyrecourt.  Miss Stella Eyrecourt.”

“Very well.  You must use your influence (when you are quite sure that it is an influence) to keep Mr. Romayne away from Miss Eyrecourt.”

Penrose looked embarrassed.  “I am afraid I should hardly know how to do that,” he said “But I should naturally, as his assistant, encourage him to keep to his studies.”

Whatever Arthur’s superior might privately think of Arthur’s reply, he received it with outward indulgence.  “That will come to the same thing,” he said.  “Besides, when I get the information I want—­this is strictly between ourselves—­I may be of some use in placing obstacles in the lady’s way.”

Penrose started.  “Information!” he repeated.  “What information?”