CHAPTER XVIII
THE FACE IN THE PICTUREMr. Sampson Longvale was taking a gentle constitutional on the strip of path before his untidy house. He wore, as usual—for he was a creature of habit—a long, grey silk dressing-gown, fastened by a scarlet sash. On his head was his silk nightcap, and between his teeth a clay churchwarden pipe, which he puffed solemnly as he walked.
He had just bidden a courteous good night to the help who came in daily to tidy his living-rooms and prepare his simple meals, when he heard the sound of feet coming up the drive. He thought at first it was the woman returning (she had a habit of forgetting things); but when he turned, he saw the unprepossessing figure of a neighbour with whom he was acquainted in the sense that Sir Gregory Penne had twice been abominably r
