Ford's room is dark, even the sunlight streaming in through the open veranda doors, cannot pierce the room entirely.
Most of the room is taken up by a large four-poster bed, still unmade and awaiting the attention of servants. The only other piece of furniture is a large circular table in one corner, covered by a mass of vellum maps and charts of obviously great age. The walls are covered by bookcases, no paintings or photos here. The books are written in a variety of languages, English, Italian, German, Gaelic . . .
Ah! Here is our host, out on the veranda! Ford sits in an intricately carved chair, one leg thrown casually over one arm. He languidly smokes a long-stemmed pipe, the wide rings floating out over the veranda and towards the gardens below. Nearby sit his two companions, obviously brothers by their similar facial features. They too are enjoying the fine tobacco with Ford, obviously much to the younger's dismay. Obviously they must be Lords Cole and Stone of Rebma.