Such were the questions that occupied my mind as Ezekiel came hurrying to meet me and we walked upstairs to the same room in which I had talked with her the night before. For the first moment, too, I was a trifle dazzled both by the brilliance of its illumination and the clamour of conversation that greeted our entrance from the large number of persons whom we found assembled in it. This died down instantly, however, when our names were announced, and as we stood framed for a moment in the doorway, nothing could have been more striking than the effect of our presence upon the actors and actresses huddled before us. I say huddled because, as so often happens when evil-doers are taken by surprise, they had unanimously winced and drawn closer together, while at least two of them had murmured “Help!” Moreover, it was quite clear that some of them had been drinking, since their wine glasses were still in their hands, and indeed I was almost certain, to my deep consternation, that Miss Moonbeam herself had been one of these.[14] Her hands were empty, however, when she came forward to greet us, and although Ezekiel had abruptly stiffened, I could not see my way to refuse the manual courtesy, to which she was evidently looking forward. Footnote 14: I am now, alas, convinced of this. “Oh, Mr. Carp,” she said, “this is indeed sweet of you. I was beginning to be afraid that you weren’t coming.” “My dear Miss Moonbeam,” I began. “Mary,” she said. “My dear Mary,” I said, “I never break my word.” “No, no, you wouldn’t,” she said, “and my friends will be so pleased. Let me introduce you to them. This is Mr. Augustus Carp.” I bowed to them gravely. “And you’ve brought your friend,” she said. “The President of our Union,” I said, “Mr. Ezekiel Stool.” She held out her hand to him. “I’m sure we shall be great friends,” she said. But he was still staring suspiciously at her colleagues. “They’ve been drinking,” he said. “What have they been drinking?” “Oh, nothing much,” she said. “Only my health.” “Your health?” he repeated. “Yes, it’s my birthday,” she said. “My dear Miss Mary,” I said. “Let me congratulate you.” “Yes, yes, yes,” said Ezekiel. “But what’s the fluid?” He tilted his face a little, sniffing the air. “Oh, I see,” said Miss Moonbeam. “How stupid of me. Reggie, come forward and show them your glass.” She glanced over her shoulder, and a young man, whom I instantly recognized as the naval officer, then approached us carrying a wine glass filled with a dark, translucent liquid. “It’s delightful stuff,” he said. “It is really. Won’t you taste a little before you begin your sermon?” But Ezekiel started back, gripping my left elbow, while the hair covering his face extended itself protectively. “No, no,” he cried. “Augustus, keep close to me. I don’t like the smell of it. Ask him what it’s made of.” I drew myself up a little, facing the naval officer, while Ezekiel clung to my elbow.