Mrs. Romayne turned quickly and gazed at the speaker obviously unrecognisingly. Nor did the two figures with whom she was confronted look in the least like acquaintances of hers. They were young women of the plainest and most angular German type, shabbily dressed according to the canons of middle-class German taste. “She remembers us not, Gretchen!” began the younger of the two. And then a sudden light of recollection broke over Mrs. Romayne. They were two girls who had been training for a musical career at Leipsic, whom it had been the fashion to patronise; they had not developed as had been expected, however, and she had entirely forgotten their existence. “Fräulein Schmitz!” she said now with distant brightness. “Ah, of course! How stupid of me! How do you do?” They were very loquacious. Mrs. Romayne had heard all about their careers; all the reasons that had led to their spending a fortnight in London; and was beginning to think that the moment had come for getting rid of them, when, having exhausted themselves in compliments on her appearance, they enquired after Julian. “Though we have seen Mr. Romayne,” said the elder, “since, ah, but much since we had the pleasure to see his mother. It was in Alexandria in the winter past--we hoped that some concerts there might be possible, but there is so much jealousy and favouritism--it was in Alexandria that we met him. He was travelling in Egypt, he told to us.” “Yes!” said Mrs. Romayne, smothering a yawn. “He was in Egypt----” she stopped suddenly, and her eyes seemed to contract strangely. “Where did you say you saw him?” she said. “It was in Alexandria! He was there for the day only, and he was to us most kind. He arrived in the morning early by the same train, and he showed us much until at night he left.” “At Alexandria?” “Surely! At Alexandria!” “You must have made a mistake. It was some other place.” Mrs. Romayne’s tone was curiously unlike that in which she had conducted the early part of the conversation. It was sharp and direct. Fräulein Schmitz seemed to notice and resent the change. “But we have not made a mistake, I must assure you!” she said stiffly. “It was at Alexandria. We saw him go away in the train.” There was a moment’s pause. Mrs. Romayne was looking straight before her with those strangely contracted eyes; her lips a thin, pale line. The sisters waited a moment, evidently affronted. Then, finding that Mrs. Romayne took no notice whatever of them, they exchanged resentful glances, and the elder spoke. “We will say good-bye!” she said formally. “It is time that we were going!” Mrs. Romayne seemed to remember their presence--gradually only. Then she said quickly, and in a voice that sounded as though her throat were dry: “You are going at once? Right out of the hall at once?” “At once we are going, yes!” was the reply, and with a stiff inclination of their heads they moved away.