Chapter 25
Sir Timothy was standing upon the hearthrug of the very
wonderful apartment which he called his library. By his side, on a
black marble pedestal, stood a small statue by Rodin. Behind him,
lit by a shielded electric light, was a Vandyck, “A Portrait of a
Gentleman Unknown,” and Francis, as he hesitated for a moment upon
the threshold, was struck by a sudden quaint likeness between the
face of the man in the picture, with his sunken cheeks, his
supercilious smile, his narrowed but powerful eyes, to the face of
Sir Timothy himself. There was something of the same spirit there—
the lawless buccaneer, perhaps the criminal.
“You asked for me, Sir Timothy,” Francis said.
Sir Timothy smiled.
“I was fortunate to find that you had not left,” he answered. “I
want you to be p
