They crossed the threshold into the ballroom, where John Church joined them almost immediately, his black brows lightened by an unusually cheerful expression. “I’ve been having a long talk with His Excellency,” he said to them jointly. “An uncommonly capable fellow, Scansleigh. He tells me he has written a strong private letter to the Secretary of State about this Notification of mine. That’s bound to have weight, you know, in case they make an attempt to get hold of Parliament at home.” As Mrs. Church and Mr. Lewis Ancram left the verandah a chair was suddenly pushed back behind the crotons. Miss Rhoda Daye had been sitting in the chair, alone too, with the south wind and the stars. She had no warning of what she was about to overhear—no sound had reached her, either of their talk or their approach—and in a somewhat agitated colloquy with herself she decided that nothing could be so terrible as her personal interruption of what Mrs. Church was saying. That lady’s words, though low and rapid, were very distinct, and Rhoda heard them out involuntarily, with a strong disposition to applaud her and to love her. Then she turned a key upon her emotions and Judith Church’s secret, and slipped quietly out to look for her mother, who asked her, between her acceptance of an ice from the Home Secretary and a _petit four_ from the General Commanding the Division, why on earth she looked so depressed. [Illustration: “What do I know about the speech!”] Ancram, turning away from the Churches, almost ran into the arms of Mohendra Lal Chuckerbutty, with whom he shook hands. His manner expressed, combined with all the good will in the world, a slight embarrassment that he could not remember Mohendra’s name, which is so often to be noticed when European officials have occasion to greet natives of distinction—natives of distinction are so very numerous and so very similar. “I hope you are well!” beamed the editor of the _Bengal Free Press_. “It is a very select party.” Then Mohendra dropped his voice confidentially: “We have sent to England, by to-day’s mail, every word of the isspeech of Dr. MacInnes——” “Damn you!” Ancram said, with a respectful, considering air: “what do I know about the speech of Dr. MacInnes! _Jehannum jao!_”[C] ----- Footnote C: “Go to Hades!” ----- Mohendra laughed in happy acquiescence as the Chief Secretary bowed and left him. “Certainlie! certainlie!” he said; “it is a very select party!”