Suddenly, up ahead, a brilliant light switched on.  He continued uphill through the trees along the path, towards it, and at length, emerged at the foot of a great flight of steps, above which was a wide glass entrance, and an Italian manservant in white gloves hovering as if on the brink.

Aaron emerged from the drive and climbed the steps.  The manservant came down two steps and took the little bag.  Then he ushered Aaron and the big bag into a large, pillared hall, with thick Turkish carpet on the floor, and handsome appointments.  It was spacious, comfortable and warm; but somewhat pretentious; rather like the imposing hall into which the heroine suddenly enters on the film.

Aaron dropped his heavy bag, with relief, and stood there, hat in hand, in his damp overcoat in the circle of light, looking vaguely at the yellow marble pillars, the gilded arches above, the shadowy distances and the great stairs.  The butler disappeared—­reappeared in another moment—­and through an open doorway came the host.  Sir William was a small, clean old man with a thin, white beard and a courtly deportment, wearing a black velvet dinner jacket faced with purple silk.

“How do you do, Mr. Sisson.  You come straight from England?”

Sir William held out his hand courteously and benevolently, smiling an old man’s smile of hospitality.

“Mr. Lilly has gone away?” said Aaron.

“Yes.  He left us several days ago.”

Aaron hesitated.

“You didn’t expect me, then?”

“Yes, oh, yes.  Yes, oh, yes.  Very glad to see you—­well, now, come in and have some dinner—­”

At this moment Lady Franks appeared—­short, rather plump, but erect and definite, in a black silk dress and pearls round her throat.

“How do you do?  We are just at dinner,” she said.  “You haven’t eaten?  No—­well, then—­would you like a bath now, or—?”

It was evident the Franks had dispensed much hospitality:  much of it charitable.  Aaron felt it.

“No,” he said.  “I’ll wash my hands and come straight in, shall I?”

“Yes, perhaps that would be better—­”

“I’m afraid I am a nuisance.”

“Not at all—­Beppe—­” and she gave instructions in Italian.

Another footman appeared, and took the big bag.  Aaron took the little one this time.  They climbed the broad, turning stairs, crossed another handsome lounge, gilt and ormolu and yellow silk chairs and scattered copies of The Graphic or of Country Life, then they disappeared through a doorway into a much narrower flight of stairs.  Man can so rarely keep it up all the way, the grandeur.

Two black and white chamber-maids appeared.  Aaron found himself in a blue silk bedroom, and a footman unstrapping his bag, which he did not want unstrapped.  Next minute he was beckoned and allured by the Italian servants down the corridor, and presented to the handsome, spacious bathroom, which was warm and creamy-coloured and glittering with massive silver and mysterious with up-to-date conveniences.  There he was left to his own devices, and felt like a small boy finding out how it works.  For even the mere turning on of the taps was a problem in silver mechanics.