It looked as if a scene was inevitable. Terry's hands gripped the sides of the table and the colour came flooding into his face; he looked like some wild animal about to spring. And meanwhile, breaking into the uneasy silence, came the sound of Severn's voice, smooth and exquisite in a language I didn't recognize, much less understand. He was obviously making some witticism, and the woman answered him by a tinkling little chime of laughter. The very loveliness of it and of her was like a goad. And then, just when I was beginning to wonder if it would be possible to manœuvre Terry out of the room without a disturbance, Severn looked round and saw us. As an exhibition of _sang-froid_ I have never in my life seen anything to equal what happened then. Severn and the woman hadn't quite reached their table when he saw us, and immediately, with a few swift words and gestures, he changed his direction and came over to us, bringing the woman with him. Not a muscle of his face or an inflexion of his voice betrayed the slightest embarrassment. "My dear Hilton, to think of finding _you_ here!" He shook hands with me cordially. "And Terry as well--how _are_ you both?" Somehow or other he had got hold of Terry's hand and had shaken it. "On business here, are you? Or is it pleasure? Or both? ... Well, really, things _do_ happen, don't they?" (Decidedly they did, I thought.) "Of course you will breakfast with me. You have had breakfast? Then you will have some more coffee, at any rate, at my table ... I insist.... And I must introduce my friend--doubtless her name will be familiar to you--Madame Lydia Danopoulos, the _danseuse_--quite one of the most fascinating ladies in this half of Europe.... She doesn't speak English or German, but just a little French, I think...." He addressed a few rapid words to her, amongst which I could recognize our names, and she favoured us with a graceful but rather distant bow. A minute later we were all sitting together at Severn's table. The whole thing had happened so quickly that I could hardly realize what it was that _had_ happened; and that, I suppose, was Severn's method, as successful with us as it usually was with the most hostile police-court witness. But to have reduced Terry in a moment from the highest pitch of excitement to a calm level of slightly sullen taciturnity was more than a method; it was a miracle.