She took up a candle, pressed her lips to his forehead, and went to her room without a word. But for full ten minutes she remained standing before the dressing-table buried in thought, and again she muttered to herself: "A great risk! A great risk!" CHAPTER V. GOING DOWN. On the evening of the day appointed for the dinner, Mr. Philip Deane stood on the steps of Barton's restaurant in the Strand, in anything but a contented frame of mind. His face, never too frank or genial in its expression, was puckered and set in rigid lines; his right hand was perpetually diving into his waistcoat-pocket for his watch, to which he constantly referred; while with, a light stick which he carried in his left, he kept striking his leg in an irritable and irritating manner. Mr. Deane had cause for annoyance; it was a quarter past seven, and neither of the guests whom he had invited had as yet appeared, though the dinner had been appointed for seven sharp. Crowds of men were pouring into and out of the restaurant, the first hungry and expectant, the last placid and replete; and Mr. Deane envied the first for what they were about to receive, and the last for what they had received. Moreover, the intended diners had in several cases pushed against him with scant ceremony, and Mr. Deane was not accustomed to be pushed against; while the people who had dined eyed him, as they stood on the steps lighting their cigars, with something like compassion, and Mr. Deane was unused to be pitied. So he stood there fretting and fuming, and biting his lips and flicking his legs, until his shoulder was grasped by George Dallas, who, with as much breath as he could command--not much, for he had been running--said: "My dear Deane! a thousand apologies for being so late! Not my own fault, I protest!" "Never is, of course," said Mr. Deane. "Really it was not in this instance. I went round to the _Mercury_ office to look at some proofs, and they kept me to do an article on a subject which I had had the handling of before, and which--" "No one else could handle arter you, eh? Pretty tall opinion you newspaper-writin' fellows have of yourselves! And why didn't you bring Routh with you when you did come!" "Routh! I haven't seen him for three days. Isn't he here!" "Not he! I've been coolin' myself on this a'mighty old doorstep since seven o'clock, only once goin' inside just to look round the saloon, and I've not set eyes on him yet." "How very odd!" "So very odd, that I'll see him somethingest before I wait for him any longer! Come you in with me. I took a table right slick opposite the door, and we'll go and strike up at once."