him　and　his　friends；　and　I　am　sure　he　would　wish　it　to　be　offered。〃　　　　　Moved　with　curiosity　to　this　minor　adventure；　Flambeau　assented　gracefully；　and　followed　the　old　man；　who　ushered　him　ceremoniously　into　the　long；　lightly　panelled　room。　　There　was　nothing　very　notable　about　it；　except　the　rather　unusual　alternation　of　many　long；　low　windows　with　many　long；　low　oblongs　of　looking…glass；　which　gave　a　singular　air　of　lightness　and　unsubstantialness　to　the　place。　　It　was　somehow　like　lunching　out　of　doors。　　One　or　two　pictures　of　a　quiet　kind　hung　in　the　corners；　one　a　large　grey　photograph　of　a　very　young　man　in　uniform；　another　a　red　chalk　sketch　of　two　long…haired　boys。　　Asked　by　Flambeau　whether　the　soldierly　person　was　the　prince；　the　butler　answered　shortly　in　the　negative；　it　was　the　prince's　younger　brother；　Captain　Stephen　Saradine；　he　said。　　And　with　that　the　old　man　seemed　to　dry　up　suddenly　and　lose　all　taste　for　conversation。　　　　　After　lunch　had　tailed　off　with　exquisite　coffee　and　liqueurs；　the　guests　were　introduced　to　the　garden；　the　library；　and　the　housekeepera　dark；　handsome　lady；　of　no　little　majesty；　and　rather　like　a　plutonic　Madonna。　　It　appeared　that　she　and　the　butler　were　the　only　survivors　of　the　prince's　original　foreign　menage　the　other　servants　now　in　the　house　being　new　and　collected　in　Norfolk　by　the　housekeeper。　　This　latter　lady　went　by　the　name　of　Mrs。　Anthony；　but　she　spoke　with　a　slight　Italian　accent；　and　Flambeau　did　not　doubt　that　Anthony　was　a　Norfolk　version　of　some　more　Latin　name。　　Mr。　Paul；　the　butler；　also　had　a　faintly　foreign　air；　but　he　was　in　tongue　and　training　English；　as　are　many　of　the　most　polished　men…servants　of　the　cosmopolitan　nobility。　　　　　Pretty　and　unique　as　it　was；　the　place　had　about　it　a　curious　luminous　sadness。　　Hours　passed　in　it　like　days。　　The　long；　well…windowed　rooms　were　full　of　daylight；　but　it　seemed　a　dead　daylight。　　And　through　all　other　incidental　noises；　the　sound　of　talk；　the　clink　of　glasses；　or　the　passing　feet　of　servants；　they　could　hear　on　all　sides　of　the　house　the　melancholy　noise　of　the　river。　　　　　〃We　have　taken　a　wrong　turning；　and　come　to　a　wrong　place；〃　said　Father　Brown；　looking　out　of　the　window　at　the　grey…green　sedges　and　the　silver　flood。　　〃Never　mind；　one　can　sometimes　do　good　by　being　the　right　person　in　the　wrong　place。〃　　　　　Father　Brown；　though　commonly　a　silent；　was　an　oddly　sympathetic　little　man；　and　in　those　few　but　endless　hours　he　unconsciously　sank　deeper　into　the　secrets　of　Reed　House　than　his　professional　friend。　　He　had　that　knack　of　friendly　silence　which　is　so　essential　to　gossip；　and　saying　scarcely　a　word；　he　probably　obtained　from　his　new　acquaintances　all　that　in　any　case　they　would　have　told。　　The　butler　indeed　was　naturally　uncommunicative。　He　betrayed　a　sullen　and　almost　animal　affection　for　his　master；　who；　he　said；　had　been　very　badly　treated。　　The　chief　offender　seemed　to　be　his　highness's　brother；　whose　name　alone　would　lengthen　the　old　man's　lantern　jaws　and　pucker　his　parrot　nose　into　a　sneer。　　Captain　Stephen　was　a　ne'er…do…weel；　apparently；　and　had　drained　his　benevolent　brother　of　hundreds　and　thousands；　forced　him　to　fly　from　fashionable　life　and　live　quietly　in　this　retreat。　　That　was　all　Paul；　the　butler；　would　say；　and　Paul　was　obviously　a　partisan。　　　　　The　Italian　housekeeper　was　somewhat　more　communicative；　being；　as　Brown　fancied；　somewhat　less　content。　　Her　tone　about　her　master　was　faintly　acid；　though　not　without　a　certain　awe。　Flambeau　and　his　friend　were　standing　in　the　room　of　the　looking…glasses　examining　the　red　sketch　of　the　two　boys；　when　the　housekeeper　swept　in　swiftly　on　some　domestic　errand。　　It　was　a　peculiarity　of　this　glittering；　glass…panelled　place　that　anyone　entering　was　reflected　in　four　or　five　mirrors　at　once；　and　Father　Brown；　without　turning　round；　stopped　in　the　middle　of　a　sentence　of　family　criticism。　　But　Flambeau；　who　had　his　face　close　up　to　the　picture；　was　already　saying　in　a　loud　voice；　〃The　brothers　Saradine；　I　suppose。　　They　both　look　innocent　enough。　　It　would　be　hard　to　say　which　is　the　good　brother　and　which　the　bad。〃　　Then；　realising　the　lady's　presence；　he　turned　the　conversation　with　some　triviality；　and　strolled　out　into　the　garden。　　But　Father　Brown　still　gazed　steadily　at　the　red　crayon　sketch；　and　Mrs。　Anthony　still　gazed　steadily　at　Father　Brown。　　　　　She　had　large　and　tragic　brown　eyes；　and　her　olive　face　glowed　darkly　with　a　curious　and　painful　wonderas　of　one　doubtful　of　a　stranger's　identity　or　purpose。　　Whether　the　little　priest's　coat　and　creed　touched　some　southern　memories　of　confession；　or　whether　she　fancied　he　knew　more　than　he　did；　she　said　to　him　in　a　low　voice　as　to　a　fellow　plotter；　〃He　is　right　enough　in　one　way；　your　friend。　　He　says　it　would　be　hard　to　pick　out　the　good　and　bad　brothers。　　Oh；　it　would　be　hard；　it　would　be　mighty　hard；　to　pick　out　the　good　one。〃　　　　　〃I　don't　understand　you；〃　said　Father　Brown；　and　began　to　move　away。　　　　　The　woman　took　a　step　nearer　to　him；　with　thunderous　brows　and　a　sort　of　savage　stoop；　like　a　bull　lowering　his　horns。　　　　　〃There　isn't　a　good　one；〃　she　hissed。　　〃There　was　badness　enough　in　the　captain　taking　all　that　money；　but　I　don't　think　there　was　much　goodness　in　the　prince　giving　it。　　The　captain's　not　the　only　one　with　something　against　him。〃　　　　　A　light　dawned　on　the　cleric's　averted　face；　and　his　mouth　formed　silently　the　word　〃blackmail。〃　　Even　as　he　did　so　the　woman　turned　an　abrupt　white　face　over　her　shoulder　and　almost　fell。　The　door　had　opened　soundlessly　and　the　pale　Paul　stood　like　a　ghost　in　the　doorway。　　By　the　weird　trick　of　the　reflecting　walls；　it　seemed　as　if　five　Pauls　had　entered　by　five　doors　simultaneously。　　　　　〃His　Highness；〃　he　said；　〃has　just　arrived。〃　　　　　In　the　same　flash　the　figure　of　a　man　had　passed　outside　the　first　window；　crossing　the　sunlit　pane　like　a　lighted　stage。　　An　instant　later　he　passed　at　the　second　window　and　the　many　mirrors　repainted　in　successive　frames　the　same　eagle　profile　and　marching　figure。　　He　was　erect　and　alert；　but　his　hair　was　white　and　his　complexion　of　an　odd　ivory　yellow。　　He　had　that　short；　curved　Roman　nose　which　generally　goes　with　long；　lean　cheeks　and　chin；　but　these　were　partly　masked　by　moustache　and　imperial。　　The　moustache　was　much　darker　than　the　beard；　giving　an　effect　slightly　theatrical；　and　he　was　dressed　up　to　the　same　dashing　part；　having　a　white　top　hat；　an　orchid　in　his　coat；　a　yellow　waistcoat　and　yellow　gloves　which　he　flapped　and　swung　as　he　walked。　　When　he　came　round　to　the　front　door　they　heard　the　stiff　Paul　open　it；　and　heard　the　new　arrival　say　cheerfully；　〃Well；　you　see　I　have　come。〃　　The　stiff　Mr。　Paul　bowed　and　answered　in　his　inaudible　manner；　for　a　few　minutes　their　conversation　could　not　be　heard。　　Then　the　butler　said；　〃Everything　is　at　your　disposal〃；　and　the　glove…flapping　Prince　Saradine　came　gaily　into　the　room　to　greet　them。　　They　beheld　once　more　that　spectral　scenefive　princes　entering　a　room　with　five　doors。　　　　　The　prince　put　the　white　hat　and　yellow　gloves　on　the　table　and　offered　his　hand　quite　cordially。　　　　　〃Delighted　to　see　you　here；　Mr。　Flambeau；〃　he　said。　　〃Knowing　you　very　well　by　reputation；　if　that's　not　an　indiscreet　remark。〃　　　　　〃Not　at　all；〃　answered　Flambeau；　laughing。　　〃I　am　not　sensitive。　　Very　few　reputations　are　gained　by　unsullied　virtue。〃　　　　　The　prince　flashed　a　sharp　look　at　him　to　see　if　the　retort　had　any　personal　point；　then　he　laughed　also　and　offered　chairs　to　everyone；　including　himself。　　　　　〃Pleasant　little　place；　this；　I　think；〃　he　said　with　a　detached　air。　　〃Not　much　to　do；　I　fear；　but　the　fishing　is　really　good。〃　　　　　The　priest；　who　was　staring　at　him　with　the　grave　stare　of　a　baby；　was　haunted　by　some　fancy　that　escaped　definition。　　He　looked　at　the　grey；　carefully　curled　hair；　yellow　white　visage；　and　slim；　somewhat　foppish　figure。　　These　were　not　unnatural；　though　perhaps　a　shade　prononce；　like　the　outfit　of　a　figure　behind　the　footlights。　　The　nameless　interest　lay　in　something　else；　in　the　very　framework　of　the　face；　Brown　was　tormented　with　a　half　memory　of　having　seen　it　somewhere　before。　　The　man　looked　like　some　old　friend　of　his　dressed　up。　　Then　he　suddenly　remembered　the　mirrors；　and　put　his　fancy　down　to　some　psychological　effect　of　that　multiplication　of　human　masks。　　　　　Prince　Saradine　distributed　his　social　attentions　between　his　guests　with　great　gaiety　and　tact。　　Finding　the　detective　of　a　sporting　turn　and　eager　to　employ　his　holiday；　he　guided　Flambeau　and　Flambeau's　boat　down　to　the　best　fishing　spot　in　the　stream；　and　was　back　in　his　own　canoe　in　twenty　minutes　to　join　Father　Brown　in　the　library　and　plunge　equally　politely　into　the　priest's　more　philosophic　pleasures。　　He　seemed　to　know　a　great　deal　both　about　the　fishing　and　the　books；　though　of　these　not　the　most　edifying；　he　spoke　five　or　six　languages；　though　chiefly　the　slang　of　each。　　He　had　evidently　lived　in　varied　cities　and　very　motley　societies；　for　some　of　his　cheerfullest　stories　were　about　gambling　hells　and　opium　dens；　Australian　bushrangers　or　Italian　brigands。　　Father　Brown　knew　that　the　once…celebrated　Saradine　had　spent　his　last　few　years　in　almost　ceaseless　travel；　but　he　had