Lady Mary was very like a feminine edition of the Earl, refined, shy, and with silvery hair.  Lady Alice was a pretty, quiet type of the English girl who is not up to date, with a particularly happy and winning expression.  The Prince was of a Teutonic fairness; for the Royal caste, whatever the nationality, is to a great extent made in Germany, and retains the physical characteristics of that ancient forest people whom the Roman historian (never having met them) so lovingly idealised.  The Prince was tall, well-proportioned, and looked ‘every inch a soldier.’  There were a great many inches.

As for Father Riccoboni, the learned have remarked that there are two chief clerical types:  the dark, ascetic type, to be found equally among Unitarians, Baptists, Anglicans, Presbyterians, and Catholics, and the burly, well-fed, genial type, which ‘cometh eating and drinking.’  The Father was of this second kind; a lusty man—­not that you could call him a sensual-looking man, still less was he a noisy humourist; but he had a considerable jowl, a strong jaw, a wide, firm mouth, and large teeth, very white and square.  Logan thought that he, too, had the makings of a soldier, and also felt almost certain that he had seen him before.  But where?—­for Logan’s acquaintance with the clergy, especially the foreign clergy, was not extensive.  The Father spoke English very well, with a slight German accent and a little hoarseness; his voice, too, did not sound unfamiliar to Logan.  But he delved in his subconscious memory in vain; there was the Father, a man with whom he certainly had some associations, yet he could not place the man.

A bell jangled somewhere without as they took tea and tattled; and, looking towards the place whence the sound came, Logan saw a little group of Italian musicians walking down the avenue which led through the park to the east side of the house and the main entrance.  They entered, with many obeisances, through the old gate of floreated wrought iron, and stopping there, about forty yards away, they piped, while a girl, in the usual contadina dress, clashed her cymbals and danced not ungracefully.  The Father, who either did not like music or did not like it of that sort, sighed, rose from his seat, and went into the house by an open French window.  The Prince also rose, but he went forward to the group of Italians, and spoke to them for a few minutes.  If he did not like that sort of music, he took the more excellent way, for the action of his elbow indicated a movement of his hand towards his waistcoat-pocket.  He returned to the party on the terrace, and the itinerant artists, after more obeisances, walked slowly back by the way they had come.

‘They are Genoese,’ said the Prince, ’tramping north to Scotland for the holiday season.’

‘They will meet strong competition from the pipers,’ said Logan, while the Earl rose, and walked rapidly after the musicians.

‘I do not like the pipes myself,’ Logan went on, ’but when I hear them in a London street my heart does warm to the skirl and the shabby tartans.’