As Mr. Neuchamp, smiling to himself at his involuntary state of injured feelings, sauntered towards the refreshment room, he met the steward, who had been introduced to him by the Commissioner as Mr. Lionel Greffham. ‘You don’t seem to be dancing,’ he said; ‘well, it is rather a bore, after the first turn or two. Bright and I are having a glass of champagne; will you join us?―it is “number two.”’ There was such an evident desire to be civil on Mr. Greffham’s part that Ernest, who had not at first regarded him with perfect approval, felt moved to respond to so friendly an accost. He found Mr. Bright in the supper room, in conversation with a well-dressed, quiet, but not the less striking-looking personage, who was introduced as the district inspector of police, Mr. Merlin. ‘What do you think of society on the diggings?’ said Mr. Bright to Ernest; ‘hardly what you would have expected?’ ‘It is utterly wonderful,’ said Ernest. ‘I am perfectly amazed at the order and decorum which everywhere prevail, and even at the elegant and enjoyable party to-night―so many nice people you seem to have.’ ‘Yes,’ said Mr. Merlin, ‘nothing is more wonderful, as you say. There _are_ so many extremely nice people here. So well worth knowing. People who have such noble, disinterested views, eh, Greffham?’ ‘I quite agree with you,’ answered that gentleman. ‘But it’s rather a bore we can’t have a little whist, isn’t it? A quiet rubber, or a game at billiards, would be much more sensible than all this capering with a lot of people that, in any other part of the world, you wouldn’t dream of speaking to.’ ‘Surely not,’ said Ernest; ‘some of our friends here are of unimpeachable _ton_, and for the rest they appear to be of very fair average standing. I am very much pleased with the whole affair.’ ‘Greffham is fastidious, and plays the Sybarite among his other characters,’ said the inspector slowly and distinctly. ‘He suffers much here when the rose leaves are unavoidably crumpled. So much depends upon a man’s antecedents.’ ‘I don’t know that I am more fastidious than others,’ he said, smiling, though the eye, that infallible referee in facial expression, did not agree with his amused expression. ‘You know that _you_, Master Merlin, rather agree with me than otherwise. But seriously, suppose we go over to the Occidental and have a game of billiards. Oceans of time; these misguided Turonians will dance for hours yet.’ The proposition met with general approval, and Mr. Neuchamp assented, not that he cared about billiards, at which he was only a middling performer, but he felt the inexplicable influence of the strange scene and novel surroundings, and was more inclined than ordinarily _desipere in loco_.