Yootha saw her lover make a little gesture of annoyance and at once she changed the subject. At supper in the Casino they were joined by Stapleton and La Planta, who had disappeared while Yootha and Jessica were playing. When they were half-way through the meal, Yootha’s gaze became fixed on a man at supper with friends at a table close by. Presently she turned to Preston: “I know that man so well by sight,” she said, “but can’t remember who he is, or where I have seen him before. Haven’t we both met him somewhere?” Preston cast a hasty glance in the direction indicated. The person referred to was a sleek, well-nourished man with black, rather curly hair, and a carefully waxed moustache. Yes, he too had seen him before--but where? And then all at once he remembered. He had not seen him before, but he had seen his portrait. It hung, quite a large picture, in Stothert’s office in the house with the bronze face. He told Yootha so. “So it does!” she exclaimed. “That is how I remember the face. I wonder who he is?” “You wonder who he is?” Jessica inquired; she had overheard only the last sentence. “That dark man at supper over there,” and she indicated his whereabouts with her eyes. “Oh, that is Monsieur Alphonse Michaud,” Jessica replied at once. “A remarkable character, according to all accounts. He is the director, and I suppose proprietor of the Metropolitan Secret Agency in London.” “That man is? But I thought Mr. Stothert and the woman called Camille Lenoir were the directors.” Jessica laughed. “Have some more lobster, dear,” she said. “No, Stothert and Lenoir are merely managers, just salaried people like other managers. But when have you been to the Metropolitan Agency?” “I went there at the time of that horrible affair at the Albert Hall ball, when they thought I had stolen Mrs. Stringborg’s necklace. I can’t bear to think of it, even now. It seems like a nightmare still.” “Of course--I had forgotten. By the way, was that mystery ever cleared up?” “I believe not. The whole thing was most singular.” “Didn’t the Metropolitan Agency find out anything? They are generally so clever.” “Nothing of importance,” Yootha answered quickly. “Oh, yes, that is the man,” she said, looking again at the dark-haired stranger who had just risen from supper with his friends, three flashily-dressed women. “There is no mistaking him. The portrait is a striking likeness.” When Yootha and Preston were alone again, the girl returned to the subject of her play. “It _is_ so exciting, Charlie,” she exclaimed. “I must try my luck again to-morrow, I really must. In some ways Jessica is a wonderful woman; she tells me she nearly always wins, so that by doing just what she does----” “You seem suddenly to have taken a fancy to Jessica,” her lover interrupted. “I never thought you would do that, dear.”