Now indeed Sir John was moved. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him. _The Times_ slipped from his fingers. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed _timbre_. "It is true," he said, "that I was dining last night at a restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes, and it is true that my companion was a young lady whose name is Pellissier. What of it?" There was a shout of laughter. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. If such a thing in connexion with him had been possible they would have declared that he was in a towering rage. An uncomfortable silence followed. Sir John once more looked around him. "I repeat, gentlemen," he said, in an ominously low tone, "what of it?" Drummond shrugged his shoulders. "You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall," he remarked. "I fail to see the joke," Sir John said. "Kindly explain it to me." "Certainly! The thing which appeals to our sense of humour is the fact that you and _la petite_ Pellissier were dining together." "Will you tell me," Sir John said ponderously, "by what right you call that young lady--_la petite_ Pellissier? I should be glad to know how you dare to allude to her in a public place in such a disrespectful manner!" Drummond looked at him and smiled. "Don't be an ass, Ferringhall," he said tersely. "Annabel Pellissier is known to most of us. I myself have had the pleasure of dining with her. She is very charming, and we all admire her immensely. She sings twice a week at the 'Ambassador's' and the 'Casino Mavise'----" Sir John held up his hand. "Stop," he said. "You do not even know what you are talking about. The young lady with whom I was dining last night was Miss Anna Pellissier. Miss Annabel is her sister. I know nothing of that young lady." There was a moment's silence. Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it. "The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna," he remarked. "It was not necessary," Sir John answered stiffly. "I was already aware of the fact. I may add that the family is well known to me. The two aunts of these young ladies lived for many years in the dower house upon my estate in Hampshire. Under the circumstances you must permit me to be the best judge of the identity of the young lady who did me the honour, as an old family friend, of dining with me." Like most men who lie but seldom, he lied well. Drummond smoked his cigarette meditatively. He remembered that he had heard stories about the wonderful likeness between these two sisters, one of whom was an artist and a recluse, whilst the other had attached herself to a very gay and a very brilliant little _coterie_ of pleasure-seekers. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. He thought it best to let the matter drop. A few minutes later Sir John left the room.