Hampson, the journalist, was full of a wonder and awe for which there was no name. He had recognized Joseph at once, a changed--marvellously changed--Joseph, but his old friend still. The whole thing had come upon him like a thunderclap, for it must be remembered that he had not seen the report in the _Daily Wire_, and knew nothing of the occurrences in Wales. The extraordinary transformation of his friend, the supernatural power of his words, the enormous hypnotic power of them--what did all these things betoken? He stood motionless, just opposite to the door of the Eccentric Club, careless of the crowd that passed and jostled him, lost in a startled dream. Then he felt some one touch his arm, and, looking up quickly, saw that the young man who had sat by him in the theatre, and whom he had heard addressed as Sir Thomas Ducaine, was accosting him. The baronet's face was white and frightened, and he seemed oblivious of all ordinary conventions. "I say," he began, in a curiously high-pitched and nervous voice, "what does it all mean? You were sitting next to me, you know. And there was a girl I know well--very well indeed--with that man; but I thought she was in Wales--" He broke off short, realizing that he was speaking to a total stranger. "I beg your pardon, sir," he said, "but I am unstrung, as I fancy most of us are to-night who have been to the Frivolity." He lifted his hat mechanically, and was about to move away. Hampson recollected a fact which he had hitherto forgotten. Sir Thomas had called out "Mary!" when the mysterious party of strangers had first appeared in the box. "You mean Miss Lys?" he said. The young man with great possessions stopped dead. "You know her?" he said, in accents of extreme surprise. "Then you know who the--the man was, too? At first I thought--oh, a mad thought!--because of the extraordinary resemblance!" He was still a little incoherent, and unable to speak the thoughts that were rushing through his startled brain. With shaking hand, he took out a gold cigarette-case and tried to light one of the little white tubes. A tall policeman came up to them. "You must move on, if you please, gentlemen," he said. "The pavements must be kept clear at this time of night." "Look here," Sir Thomas said to Hampson, "my name is Ducaine--Sir Thomas Ducaine. You know something of all this--you know Miss Lys. I want to talk to you. I must talk to you, sir! Now, I live only a few yards from here, my house is in Piccadilly. Won't you come and spend an hour or two with me? It would be a great kindness. I'm sure you want some supper, too, after all this terrible excitement."