“Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her. “I wonder if there is!” said Capes, and paused, and then bent down over the boy who wore his hair like Russell. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. She was instinctively aware of him as she had been of Julian. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. "Who took it thence?" "Thames Darrell; the boy at your side.
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