‘And who is he like?’ Logan happened to be asking Scremerston at that moment.  ’I know the face—­I know the voice; hang it!—­where have I seen the man?’

‘Now you mention it,’ said Scremerston, ’I seem to remember him too.  But I can’t place him.  What do you think of a game of billiards, father?’ he asked, rising and addressing Lord Embleton.  ’Rosamond—­Miss Willoughby, I mean—­’

’Oh, we are cousins, Lord Embleton says, and you may call me Rosamond.  I have never had any cousins before,’ interrupted the young lady.

‘Rosamond,’ said Scremerston, with a gulp, ’is getting on wonderfully well for a beginner.’

‘Then let us proceed with her education:  it is growing chilly, too,’ said the Earl; and they all went to billiards, the Jesuit marking with much attention and precision.  Later he took a cue, and was easily the master of every man there, though better acquainted, he said, with the foreign game.  The late Pope used to play, he said, nearly as well as Mr. Herbert Spencer.  Even for a beginner, Miss Willoughby was not a brilliant player; but she did not cut the cloth, and her arms were remarkably beautiful—­an excellent but an extremely rare thing in woman.  She was rewarded, finally, by a choice between bedroom candles lit and offered by her younger and her elder cousins, and, after a momentary hesitation, accepted that of the Earl.

‘How is this going to end?’ thought Logan, when he was alone.  ’Miss Bangs is out of the running, that is certain:  millions of dollars cannot bring her near Miss Willoughby with Scremerston.  The old gentleman ought to like that—­it relieves him from the bacon and lard, and the dollars, and the associations with a Straddle; and then Miss Willoughby’s family is all right, but the girl is reckless.  A demon has entered into her:  she used to be so quiet.  I’d rather marry Miss Bangs without the dollars.  Then it is all very well for Scremerston to yield to Venus Verticordia, and transfer his heart to this new enchantress.  But, if I am not mistaken, the Earl himself is much more kind than kin.  The heart has no age, and he is a very well-preserved peer.  You might take him for little more than forty, though he quite looked his years when I saw him first.  Well, I am safe enough, in spite of Merton’s warning:  this new Helen has no eyes for me, and the Prince has no eyes for her, I think.  But who is the Jesuit?’

Logan fought with his memory till he fell asleep, but he recovered no gleam of recollection about the holy man.

It did not seem to Logan, next day, that he was in for a very lively holiday.  His host carried off Miss Willoughby to the muniment-room after breakfast; that was an advantage he had over Scremerston, who was decidedly restless and ill at ease.  He took Logan to see the keeper, and they talked about fish and examined local flies, and Logan arranged to go and try the trout with the bustard some night; and