His guests glanced meaningly at each other. “Good gracious!” he cried, to a good-looking waiter with a large black moustache and a head of hair like a clothes brush, “what are you standing there gazing at me in such a melancholy way for?” “Ver’ sorry,” said the young waiter. “You look it!” His nearest guests applauded the wit and readiness of the retort. Other tables cleared; folk hurried off to theatres. The head waiter ordered the moustached youth to turn off some of the lights. “Now, gentlemen!” Mr. Amherst, leaning elbows on the table as coffee and liqueurs were served, cleared his throat, and sent a commanding glance up and down. “My dear”—to his daughter, who was looking at the waiter—“have I your attention?” “Not yet, father.” “The presence of a lady,” he said to the others, “need not interfere with the flow of conversation. I want you to make yourselves thoroughly at home, and do just as you please. We can wish each other a happy New Year later on in the evening. But first of all there’s one small matter I wish to bring before your notice.” They put hands to ears, in the attitude of men anxious to gain every word. He leaned back in his chair and came forward once more; his chin went out and he fired a name down the table. They twisted chairs promptly in his direction. “Yes,” gratified by their astonishment, “big game, I admit, but it’s what I’m after. Other clubs may be on the same track, and therefore what we want first of all is absolute secrecy. If you’re prepared to back me up I’ll promise to see it through, but there must be no cackle, no chatterboxing, no talking to wives, or what not. Not a single word uttered away from this table.” “They won’t let him go.” “Who said that?” The others, much in the manner of schoolboys, indicated Burnham. “I believe,” said Mr. Amherst—“set me right if I’m wrong—but I believe I’m Chairman. Unless I’m woefully mistaken, I was made Chairman about four years ago, at a time when the club was right out on the rocks. It had got a past, but no present. If my memory serves me right, I made it a small present. I bought shares when no one else was prepared to do so. And since that time, what has the club done?” He put out the fingers of one hand and prepared to recite the successes. His daughter coughed. “I was only going to run through the list, my dear.” “You can save yourself the trouble,” she said. “Now, having arrived at this point,” addressing the table, “I ask myself the question, where are we weak? Where are we deficient? Where are we—” He was so much annoyed at their impatience in anticipating him by giving the answer, that he found himself obliged to apply a match to his cigar, which was still alight. “Very well, then,” reluctantly. “Discovering this, I look around and I endeavour to find out the best man available.” “Mr. Pangbourne,” said Burnham, taking heart, “would no more think—” Mr. Amherst snapped finger and thumb.