Somewhere in the peaceful retirement behind the clubs they surveyed one another and then laughed. Brun--the dapper perfect Brun--had a bleeding cheek, a torn waistcoat, and a large and very unbecoming tear in his trousers. He was half angry and half amused--finally a survey of Christopher, with mud on his nose and his collar hanging from one button and revealing a fat red neck, restored his good temper. "You'd better come back with me," said Christopher, "and be cleaned up." They went back to Harley Street and half an hour later were sitting quietly in easy chairs, with the house as though it were made of cotton-wool, so silent and hidden was it, about them. Both men were excited; Christopher had been changed by the events of the last few weeks, and Brun, if he had not been so personally involved, had seen enough to excite his most eager curiosity and speculation. Brun's sharp little eyes, flashing across the tip of his cigar, sought Christopher's large comfortable face, fell from there over his large comfortable body, down at last to his large comfortable boots. "Well ... First time I've seen a Continental crowd in England." "Continental?" "Always your Englishman, however excited and of whatever rank, knows there are things a gentleman doesn't do. Those people to-night had not that knowledge. Very interesting," he added. Christopher peacefully smoked, his body well spread out in the chair, his broad rather clumsy-looking fingers clutching devotedly at his pipe. "So you were at the funeral the other day?" "I was. I expect I mourned her more sincerely than any of you. I'd never seen her, but she meant a lot to me--as a symbol. And I like symbols better than human beings." He pulled his body together with a little jerk and leaned forward: "Christopher, do you remember, a long while ago, going into a gallery in Bond Street and meeting Lady Adela Beaminster there and Lady Seddon? It was just after Ross's portrait was first shown." "I remember," said Christopher, nodding his head. "You were there." "I was. I was there with Arkwright the African explorer man. I only mention the day because Arkwright was interested in Lady Seddon, wanted to know all about her, and I talked a bit, I remember. My point to him was that there was a situation between that girl and her grandmother that would be worth anybody's watching. I followed it myself for a while and then I lost it. But you're a friend of the family--tell me, Christopher, what happened between those two." "Nothing," Christopher said, laughing. "Oh, nonsense," Brun answered. "They were all in it. Something went on. Then Seddon had that accident ... Breton was in it." But Christopher only smiled. "Well, if you won't--_n'importe_--I have my own idea of it all. That girl was a fine girl, and the old woman was fine too-- "But how they must have hated one another!"