"Oh, yes, he was in," replied Ingram, vaguely. And then he pushed up the little trap-door and told the man to drive to Number Fourteen, Eaton Square. "I hope Mrs. Barham will be able to give us something to eat," he continued. "You see, she does not expect us, and there may be nothing in the house."
"Is it your house? Do you live there?" he asked, curiously.
"Yes," returned Ingram, "It is my house, but I am not often there. I have another house in the country." And then, rather abruptly, "Noel, lad, can you keep a secret--honour bright, you know, and all that sort of thing?"
Then Noel looked up in his face a little suspiciously, and there was a knowing twinkle in his eyes.
"Mum's the word," he said, quickly, "but I know what you are going to say. Your name isn't Ingram."
"Oh, yes, it is," returned the other, rather amused at this, "only I have another. It is the family name. My father was Colonel Ingram, and until eighteen months ago I was plain Mr. Ingram."
"And now?" and there was growing excitement in Noel's voice.
"Well, the only difference is an old cousin died, and so I became Viscount Ralston. Why, my boy," with a little chuckling laugh, "I was as poor as a church mouse before that--poorer than your father. I painted bad pictures that would not sell, and lived in a tin shanty, hold hard--don't interrupt me, for we shall be at my diggings directly. I want you to understand that for the present, at Cleveland Terrace and at the Red House, I am still Mr. Ingram. I have my reasons, and some day you shall know them; but I want you to promise that you will not betray me." Then Noel, feeling utterly bewildered, and not a little mystified, nodded an assent to this, and the next moment they stopped before one of the big, gloomy-looking houses in Eaton Square. A tall, grey-haired old man admitted them.
"I have taken you by surprise, Barham," observed Lord Ralston, carelessly; "and you see I have brought a friend."
"Yes, my lord," returned Barham, tranquilly. "And I am glad to say there is a fire in the library; but there is something wrong with the dining-room chimney, and the workmen have been there."
"All right. Just pay the cabman." And then Lord Ralston led the way to the library. It was a large room, and the firelight played fitfully over the carved oak furniture and red morocco chairs. The next moment the soft electric light enabled Noel to see his surroundings more plainly. Since his visit to the Red House his views had been considerably enlarged, and he at once told himself that this room beat Miss Harford's library hollow. Lord Ralston left him for a few moments. When he returned he said, with something of his old whimsical dryness,--