The speaker was a man of arresting personality. Above medium height, well but leanly built, the face of Seton “Pasha” was burned to a deeper shade than England’s wintry sun is capable of producing. He wore a close-trimmed beard and moustache, and the bronze on his cheeks enhanced the brightness of his grey eyes and rendered very noticeable a slight frosting of the dark hair above his temples. He had the indescribable air of a “sure” man, a sound man to have beside one in a tight place; and looking into the rather grim face, Quentin Gray felt suddenly ashamed of himself. From Seton Pasha he knew that he could keep nothing back. He knew that presently he should find himself telling this quiet, brown-skinned man the whole story of his humiliation—and he knew that Seton would not spare his feelings. “My dear fellow,” he said, “you must pardon me if I sometimes fail to respect your wishes in this matter. When I left the East the name of Seton Pasha was on everybody’s tongue. But are you alone?” “I am. I only arrived in London tonight and in England this morning.” “Were you thinking of dining here?” “No; I saw you through the doorway as I was passing. But this will do as well as another place. I gather that you are disengaged. Perhaps you will dine with me?” “Splendid!” cried Gray. “Wait a moment. Perhaps my table hasn’t gone!” He ran off in his boyish, impetuous fashion, and Seton watched him, smiling quietly. The table proved to be available, and ere long the two were discussing an excellent dinner. Gray lost much of his irritability and began to talk coherently upon topics of general interest. Presently, following an interval during which he had been covertly watching his companion: “Do you know, Seton,” he said, “you are the one man in London whose company I could have tolerated tonight.” “My arrival was peculiarly opportune.” “Your arrivals are always peculiarly opportune.” Gray stared at Seton with an expression of puzzled admiration. “I don’t think I shall ever understand your turning up immediately before the Senussi raid in Egypt. Do you remember? I was with the armored cars.” “I remember perfectly.” “Then you vanished in the same mysterious fashion, and the C. O. was a sphinx on the subject. I next saw you strolling out of the gate at Baghdad. How the devil you’d got to Baghdad, considering that you didn’t come with us and that you weren’t with the cavalry, heaven only knows!” “No,” said Seton judicially, gazing through his uplifted wine-glass; “when one comes to consider the matter without prejudice it is certainly odd. But do I know the lady to whose non-appearance I owe the pleasure of your company tonight?” Quentin Gray stared at him blankly. “Really, Seton, you amaze me. Did I say that I had an appointment with a lady?”