His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was. For two years he thought himself secure; and, secretly engaged in the Jacobite schemes of the time, in which, also, Sir Cecil was deeply involved, he began to relax in his watchfulness over Aliva. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture. ’ The sword was released to slide back into its scabbard.
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