And naturally people who were not her friends, women more especially, whispered. Others, when her name was mentioned, would smile significantly; smiles which did more harm than the whispers. For though nothing could be openly said against her, yet her would-be detractors were glad to insinuate evil. That friend of hers, for instance, Aloysius Stapleton, why was he always at her heels? There might, of course, be no harm in the relationship; but on the other hand there might be harm, and as there might be there probably was. That was the attitude many adopted towards her who nevertheless accepted her hospitality and were glad to be invited to her receptions--receptions which certainly were the talk of all the town. Yet, curiously enough, she had refused to act as hostess at the great ball to take place at the Albert Hall; more, she had declined to be included among the society hostesses who would receive the three thousand or more guests that night. Why was that? It was Hopford who asked the question, and he put it to Captain Preston. In short, while the social world of London for the most part worshiped at the shrine of the mysterious Jessica Mervyn-Robertson, Captain Preston, Hopford, Cora Hartsilver, Yootha Hagerston and George Blenkiron were banding themselves together--a little group of skeptics determined to find out who Jessica actually was, and who her friends were. Perhaps had they known the sensation the approaching great ball at the Albert Hall held in store for them they would have hesitated before meddling with the affairs of Jessica Mervyn-Robertson, the idol of London Society. CHAPTER XI. HUSH MONEY! You would think, judging by the newspapers, that the great balls which take place periodically in London at the Albert Hall and elsewhere presented scenes of wild delight approaching revelry. Many, in reality, are deadly dull affairs, and respectable beyond words, while others are so crowded that dancing becomes an impossibility. Of course there are always people who like to be “seen everywhere” in order to give their friends the impression that they are “in the swim” of London life, fashionable and otherwise. Such folk you will usually find to be _poseurs_ of a peculiarly unintelligent type, the sort of men and women who are never natural, never “themselves” as it is called, and who act and talk always to impress those who may see or hear them.