I was a little more awake by this time and saw that Pat was in full evening kit, and very grand he looked. He was supposed to be the handsomest man in London, on the large swaggering side, and certainly, whether in uniform or mufti, he was a very splendid figure. Nevertheless, he had no more idea of side than a spaniel dog, and he was just about as kind and faithful as the sportsman's friend. He possessed a certain downright honesty and common sense that endeared him to every one, though his own mother would hardly have called him clever. At an earlier period of our lives he had caned me a good deal at Eton, and it was difficult to get out of his dear, stupid old head that he had not some vague rights over me in that direction still. "Now, Tom," he said, pouring himself out a mighty drink--for his head was cast-steel, "you go and make yourself look pretty and then come back here, 'cos I have something to tell you." I went obediently away, bathed, shaved, was assisted by Preston into evening clothes and returned to the dining-room about a quarter to ten. "What have you got to tell me, Pat?" He thought for a moment. I believe that he always had to summon his words out of some cupboard in his brain--"Tom, I've seen the most beautiful girl in the world." "Then leg it, Pat, hare away from temptation, or she'll have you!"--Pat had ten thousand a year and had been a dead mark for all sorts of schemes for the last two years. "Don't be a silly ass, Tom, you don't know what you're talking about. This is serious." "I don't know who _you're_ talking about." He was heaving himself out of his chair to explain, when the door opened and Preston announced "Lord Arthur Winstanley." "Hallo, what brings you here?" I said. "Thought I'd come in for a drink. Saw you were going to mother's to-night, Tom, thought we might as well be going together. Hallo, Pat. You coming along too?" "Thought of doin' so," said Captain Moore. Arthur threw himself into a chair--slim, clean shaved, with curly black hair and dark blue eyes, his clean-cut, clever face alive with youth and vitality. "Tom," he said to me, "to-night you are going to see the most beautiful girl in the world." "Hallo!" Pat shouted, "you've seen her too?" "Seen her? Of course I have. Mother's giving the dance for her to-night." Then I understood. "Oh, Miss Morse?" I said. "Jooaneeta!" said Pat in his rich, Irish voice. "Generally pronounced 'Whanita' soft--like tropic moonlight, my old geranium," said Arthur. "Sure, your pronunciation won't do at all, at all." Pat twirled the end of his huge mustache, then he heaved a cushion. "You and your talk!" he said. "Well, I've not seen her," I remarked, "but I'm quite willing to take the word of two experts. Isn't it about time we went?" Winstanley produced a platinum watch no thicker than a half-crown from the pocket of his white waistcoat.