It was. Two minutes later Clifford was in a nook at one end of the big after-midnight restaurant, a tubbed palm insuring him privacy from any save those who should purposely come investigating. A few yards away, with a placard “Reserved,” was the table that had been indicated as Loveman’s. Along the nearest side of the room was a row of begilded doors, entrances into small private dining-rooms--Monsieur Le Bain’s “cabinets particulier.” The passing of waiters through these doors with loaded trays, and the issuance of laughter, informed Clifford that some of these rooms were already occupied. Clifford’s job was now a waiting job; and while he waited the appearance of Loveman and Mary Regan, he took in the restaurant. Le Minuit, though it advertised “newest decorations, most titillating dishes, most astonishing entertainment,” was to Clifford the same old thing: its only individual appeal to the imagination was that it did not open till midnight, and that it was reputed to be supreme in the matter of naughty surprises. The pretentious mural paintings--the rows of mirrors inserted in the walls, framed with gilded plaster--the palms in tubs--the artificial vines, with their clusters of purple glass grapes hanging from the latticed ceiling: all was to him a wearisome duplication. And Le Minuit’s cabaret was the same old thing--perhaps a bit more _risqué_ than the average--except for its great feature, one Molkarina, a native Hawaiian dancer, who whirled and contorted and jiggled in what New York accepted as authentic folk-dances--but who, as Clifford knew, had never been any nearer the much-sung island beaches than the Barbary Coast of San Francisco. Of the three or four hundred persons who by this time were in the room, Clifford knew some by name, all he knew by types. There were a few indubitable members of the smartest social set for whom the wildest was becoming tame and cloying; and there were men and women hardly less well dressed, who lived by every means except honest effort--who were looking for pleasure and looking for prey; and in between these showy extremes were a few work-a-day persons who had come hither in a spirit of daring exploration. Presently Clifford saw Mary Regan, obsequiously led by Monsieur Le Bain himself, and followed by the urbane little Peter Loveman, make way through the hilarious room and take possession of the reserved table. Clifford keyed himself to watch and listen. He sensed that he was now about to have revealed to him the heart of this whole business. Evidently Loveman had given full orders in advance, for almost immediately supper, with champagne in an ice pail, was brought to the table. The talk at first was chiefly the amusing, disarming chatter of which Loveman was a master. Then by degrees it became more serious, then it shifted to Mary and her plans.