The buzz of conversation in their immediate vicinity had been temporarily suspended. Every one who had seen them enter had been interested in these late-comers, and many curious eyes had followed them to their seats. Briefly, the girl was beautiful and the man distinguished. When they had taken their places, however, the hum of conversation recommenced. Densham and Wolfenden leaned over to one another, and their questions were almost simultaneous. "Who are they?" "Who is she?" Alas! neither of them knew; neither of them had the least idea. Felix, Wolfenden's guest, it seemed useless to ask. He had only just arrived in England, and he was a complete stranger to London. Besides, he did not seem to be interested. He was proceeding calmly with his supper, with his back directly turned upon the new-comers. Beyond one rapid, upward glance at their entrance he seemed almost to have avoided looking at them. Wolfenden thought of this afterwards. "I see Harcutt in the corner," he said. "He will know who they are for certain. I shall go and ask him." He crossed the room and chatted for a few minutes with a noisy little party in an adjacent recess. Presently he put his question. Alas! not one of them knew! Harcutt, a journalist of some note and a man who prided himself upon knowing absolutely everybody, was as helpless as the rest. To his humiliation he was obliged to confess it. "I never saw either of them before in my life," he said. "I cannot imagine who they can be. They are certainly foreigners." "Very likely," Wolfenden agreed quietly. "In fact, I never doubted it. An English girl of that age--she is very young by the bye--would never be so perfectly turned out." "What a very horrid thing to say, Lord Wolfenden," exclaimed the woman on whose chair his hand was resting. "Don't you know that dressing is altogether a matter of one's maid? You may rely upon it that that girl has found a treasure!" "Well, I don't know," Wolfenden said, smiling. "Young English girls always seem to me to look so dishevelled in evening dress. Now this girl is dressed with the art of a Frenchwoman of mature years, and yet with the simplicity of a child." The woman laid down her lorgnettes and shrugged her shoulders. "I agree with you," she said, "that she is probably not English. If she were she would not wear such diamonds at her age." "By the bye," Harcutt remarked with sudden cheerfulness, "we shall be able to find out who the man is when we leave. The table was reserved, so the name will be on the list at the door." His friends rose to leave and Harcutt, making his adieux, crossed the room with Wolfenden. "We may as well have our coffee together," he said. "I ordered Turkish and I've been waiting for it ten minutes. We got here early. Hullo! where's your other guest?" Densham was sitting alone. Wolfenden looked at him inquiringly.