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 Lord Stranleigh had just completed the fastening of the last button of his right-hand glove, and was examining it most critically, as a connoisseur scrutinises any work of art seriously. Stranleigh wished to satisfy himself that there were no creases in the glove, for nothing annoyed him so much as to find himself in Piccadilly, in broad daylight, with one of his gloves slightly wrinkled. He was about to step into the hall when he became aware of some sort of altercation going on at his front door. Lord Stranleigh disliked very much a demonstration of any kind, or even loud talk about the house. Usually there was silence, soft footfalls, almost stealthy opening of doors and shutting of them, and subdued tones when a question was asked or answered. By the sounds that now came to him Lord Stranleigh surmised that at least three of his servants were endeavouring to persuade some people outside to remain there.