Involuntarily they all three glanced towards the man. He was well preserved and his little imperial and short grey moustache were trimmed with military precision, yet his hair was almost white, and his age could scarcely be less than sixty. In his way he was quite as interesting as the girl. His eyes, underneath his thick brows, were dark and clear, and his features were strong and delicately shaped. His hands were white and very shapely, the fingers were rather long, and he wore two singularly handsome rings, both set with strange stones. By the side of the table rested the stick upon which he had been leaning during his passage through the room. It was of smooth, dark wood polished like a malacca cane, and set at the top with a curious, green, opalescent stone, as large as a sparrow's egg. The eyes of the three men had each in turn been arrested by it. In the electric light which fell softly upon the upper part of it, the stone seemed to burn and glow with a peculiar, iridescent radiance. Evidently it was a precious possession, for once when a waiter had offered to remove it to a stand at the other end of the room, the man had stopped him sharply and drawn it a little closer towards him. Wolfenden lit a fresh cigarette, and gazed thoughtfully into the little cloud of blue smoke. "Husband and wife," he repeated slowly. "What an absurd idea! More likely father and daughter!" "How about the roses?" Harcutt remarked. "A father does not as a rule show such excellent taste in flowers!" They had finished supper. Suddenly the girl stretched out her left hand and took a glove from the table. Wolfenden smiled triumphantly. "She has no wedding-ring," he exclaimed softly. Then Harcutt, for the first time, made a remark for which he was never altogether forgiven--a remark which both the other men received in chilling silence. "That may or may not be a matter for congratulation," he said, twirling his moustache. "One never knows!" Wolfenden stood up, turning his back upon Harcutt and pointedly ignoring him. "Let us go, Densham," he said. "We are almost the last." As a matter of fact his movement was made at exactly the right time. They could scarcely have left the room at the same moment as these two people, in whom manifestly they had been taking so great an interest. But by the time they had sent for their coats and hats from the cloak-room, and Harcutt had coolly scrutinised the table-list, they found themselves all together in a little group at the head of the stairs. Wolfenden, who was a few steps in front, drew back to allow them to pass. The man, leaning upon his stick, laid his hand upon the girl's sleeve. Then he looked up at the man, and addressed Wolfenden directly. "You had better precede us, sir," he said; "my progress is unfortunately somewhat slow." Wolfenden drew back courteously. "We are in no hurry," he said. "Please go on."