Wogan, without moving his head or opening his eyes a fraction wider, looked down the staircase and saw just above the edge of one of the steep stairs a face watching them,--a face with bright, birdlike eyes and an indescribable expression of cunning.
Wogan had need of all his self-control.

He felt that his eyelids were fluttering on his cheeks, that his breath had stopped even as Clementina's had.

For the face which he saw was one quite familiar to him, though never familiar with that expression.

It was the face of an easy-going gentleman who made up for the lack of his wit by the heartiness of his laugh, and to whom Wogan had been drawn because of his simplicity.

There was no simplicity in Henry Whittington's face now.