IV At the Ritz Hotel a few hours later, Bertie Morris studied a fine company with a critic's eye. He knew most of the people in the famous _salle à manger_, and put himself up several pegs on the strength of his knowledge. "Say, there are some glad frocks--what?" Faber, who had a little bundle of papers in his hand, looked round and about for the first time. "All friends of yours?" he asked slyly. Bertie showed a row of gold-rimmed teeth. "Know most of them. Newspaper people must. That's young Mrs. Vanderbilt; the Countess Sobenski's next to her. Of course, you recognize Steel--and the Great Man. He's as good as he's great--a hundred and forty papers and more than one Cabinet Minister pretty fond of him. Beyond him is Sir Charles. Did you ever hear him speak? About the best hindleg man they've got over yonder. Oughtn't to have been an actor--he'd have run Canterbury better. Who the next lot are, can't say. The flaxen-haired one is a d----d fine girl--I don't think. Wonder who she is?" Faber smiled. "She's a parson's daughter--no good to you. There's Sir Jules Achon and his daughter, but who the little girl in black may be, I don't know; she looks like a French girl." "I'll ask Ellis; he's a 'Who's Who' here. Fine chap, Ellis, ought to have got the K.G.G. when he was in London." "What's the K.G.G. anyway?" "The Knight of the Grand Gorge--two pots crossed and a tumbler rampant. Puts Pommery in your thoughts. Suppose we do?" Faber gave the order and the wine was served. Accustomed to the immense hotels of New York, he found the Ritz interesting chiefly by reason of its guests. The women were magnificently gowned, and many of them very pretty. Such a cosmopolitan company could hardly be found in any other hotel on the Continent; its united wealth would have financed a kingdom. Faber reflected with satisfaction that he had the right to be there. His brains had earned him the title. "About this parson's daughter," Bertie asked; "what's she doing in such a place as this?" He had grown curious, for Gabrielle Silvester was quite the most beautiful woman in the room. "She appears to be eating at present." "Yes, I know; but who are her friends?" "The man is Sir Jules Achon. He's a big man--those who come after will hear of him. Have you read nothing of the Federation of Europe?" "Not as much as the top dot of a semicolon. Who's going to federate?" "It's his own idea. Kill war by commerce--you can't kill it any other way. Europe's paying ten per cent taxation as against America for her armies and navies. Make one federated state with no commercial barriers, and you knock the ten per cent down to two. That's Sir Jules's notion." "You don't think there's anything in it?"