He was bidden to enter by the former of the two voices, and, going in, found himself in a billiard room. Five or six people sat round the wall on settees, each holding a cue, with which they were still gently strumming on the floor. A stout, elderly woman was at the piano, and a young man sat cross-legged in the middle of the billiard-table, with a book in one hand and a cigar in the other. There was a good deal of tobacco smoke in the room, and Mr. Delane did not at first distinguish the faces of the company. The young man on the table uncoiled himself with great agility, jumped down, and came forward to meet the newcomer with outstretched hands. As he outstretched them, he dropped the book and the cigar to the ground on either side of him. "Ah, here you are! Delightful of you to come!" he cried. "Now, let me guess you!" "Mr. Bannister?--Have I the pleasure?" "Yes, yes. Now let's see--don't tell me your name." He drew back a step, surveyed Mr. Delane's portly figure, his dignified carriage, his plain solid watch-chain, his square-toed strong boots. "The Squire!" he exclaimed. "Mr. Delane, isn't it?" "I am Mr. Delane." "Good! You don't mind being guessed, do you? It's so much more amusing. What will you have?" "Thank you, I've lunched, Mr. Bannister." "Have you? We've just breakfasted--had a ride before, you know. But I must introduce you." He searched the floor, picked up the cigar, looked at it regretfully, and threw it out of an open window. "This," he resumed, waving his hand toward the piano, "is Mrs. Ernest Hodge. This is Miss Fane, Mrs. Hodge's daughter--no, not by a first marriage; everybody suggests that. Professional name, you know--she sings. Hodge really wouldn't do, would it, Mrs. Hodge? This is Philip Hume. This is Arthur Angell, who writes verses--like me. This is--but I expect you know these gentlemen?" Mr. Delane peered through the smoke which Philip Hume was producing from a long pipe, and to his amazement discerned three familiar faces: those of Dr. Roberts, the Mayor, and Alderman Johnstone. The Doctor was flushed and looked excited; the Mayor was a picture of dignified complacency; Johnstone appeared embarrassed and uncomfortable, for his bald head was embellished with a flowery garland. Dale saw Mr. Delane's eyes rest on this article. "We always crown anybody who adds to our knowledge," he explained. "He gets a wreath of honor. The Alderman added to our knowledge of the expense of building a room. So Miss Fane crowned him." An appreciative chuckle from the Mayor followed this explanation; he knocked the butt of his cue against the floor, and winked at Philip Hume. The last-named, seeing that Mr. Delane was somewhat surprised at the company, came up to him and said: "Come and sit down; Dale never remembers that anybody wants a seat. Here's an armchair."