It was past two as he turned into Grosvenor Square and up the broad flight of steps which led up to the Charteris’ mansion. He had come here with more purposes than one: in the first place, to see Enid—this attraction a powerful one; and secondly, to have a talk upon general matters with the baronet, and perhaps get an invitation to luncheon. Sir Geoffrey he found in the dining-room, just sitting down to his mid-day meal in solitary state; and in answer to an invitation to join, asked after Enid, who, he learned, had gone with Maxwell and a kindly chaperon to a morning-party at Twickenham. He was, however, too much a cosmopolitan to allow this to interfere with his appetite, so, with a few well-chosen words of regret, he settled himself quietly to his lunch, discussing in turn the weather, politics, the last new beauty, anything—waiting for his host to speak upon the subject nearest his heart. Sir Geoffrey’s patience being by this time exhausted, he commenced. ‘I think I am free, Le Gautier,’ he said at length. The listener affected not to comprehend this enigmatic remark. ‘Free from what, Sir Geoffrey?’ he asked carelessly. ‘Is it gout, or headache, or a marvellous escape from dining with a notorious bore? Which of these things are you free from?’ ‘I was thinking of nothing so worldly,’ was the serious reply. ‘I allude to the marvellous manifestations recently vouchsafed to me. Since you so kindly showed me through yourself the path of duty, I have felt like a different man. They are gone, I trust for ever. Tell me, do you think there is any possible chance of their recurring?’ ‘So long as you fulfil your part of the contract, certainly not.—But, my dear Sir Geoffrey,’ the Frenchman continued gaily, ‘let us have no serious conversation now, I beseech you. Let us forget for the time we are anything but friends. I am too light and frivolous to talk seriously. The last new play, a fresh picture, anything but the supernatural.’ Despite this appearance of _bonhomie_, Le Gautier had no intention of changing the conversation, though it was not his cue to introduce the subject himself; besides, an appearance of good-naturedly yielding to the other’s news seemed to tell better, and create a deeper feeling of obligation. ‘The longer I put the matter off, the more difficult my task seems to be,’ the baronet continued, not without hesitation. ‘Certain restrictions were laid upon me, certain commands given, which I am bound to carry out. If you had heard the conversation, my task would be less difficult; but as you did not, I must do my best to explain.’ Le Gautier drummed with his fingers upon the table, shrugged his shoulders, and sighed gently, as a man yielding against his will upon the sacred ground of friendship, tempered with politeness.