Gryce's face
which anyone acquainted with him could not easily mistake. Whatever
might be the mysterious something which the room contained, it was
evidently sufficient in his eyes to justify his whole conduct.
"Now sir," said Mr. Blake, turning upon my superior with his sternest
expression, "the room and its contents are before you; what have you
to say for yourself."
Mr. Gryce equally stern, if not equally composed, cast one of his
inscrutable glances round the apartment and without a word stepped
before the picture that was as I have said, the only ornamentation of
the otherwise bare and unattractive room.
I thought Mr. Blake looked surprised, but his face was not one that
lightly expressed emotion.
"A portrait of my cousin the Countess De Mirac," said he with a
certain dryness of tone hard to interpret.
Mr. Gryce bowed and for a moment stood looking with a strange lack of
interest at the proudly brilliant face of the painting before him,
then to our great amazement stepped forward and with a quick gesture
turned the picture rapidly to the wall, when--Gracious heavens! what a
vision started out before us from the reverse side of that painted
canvas! No luxurious brunette countenance now, steeped in pride and
languor, but a face--Let me see if I can describe it.
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