The occupants of the drawing-room were all accustomed to the "usages of polite society," either in Britannic or Transatlantic form; but it was impossible for them to repress a flutter of excitement as the visitor entered, his original "cavalry swing" marred but not wholly obliterated by his limp. Leonie tried hard not to blush, and failed. Mrs. Sherman interlaced her fingers nervously. Sybil Hanbury stared hard at the cousin whose stately town house she was occupying, and who had waved a magic wand over her lover’s prospects. Mrs. Sadgrove was the graceful and interested hostess, and the General—well, the General was surprised for once into a start which was only invisible because nobody was looking at him. Beaumanoir’s manner was perfectly easy and self-possessed, but there was a harassed look in his eyes which did not entirely fade as he responded to his welcome. But it was not that which had caused the General to start. _The Duke was the man whom he had seen knocked down by Mrs. Talmage Eglinton’s carriage, to the imminent peril of his life._ The "wash and brush-up" had been effectual as regards the ducal garments, but they could not hide the black silk sling in which he carried his left arm. It was General Sadgrove’s way to allow events to shape themselves, and saying nothing of the scene he had witnessed as he welcomed the distinguished visitor, he waited for the Duke to refer to his mishap himself. But no. The victim of the accident was apparently as much inclined to reticence as had been the fair cause of it. It was Mrs. Sherman who unconsciously provoked the mendacious statement which stimulated the General’s curiosity. "I’m afraid that your Grace has hurt your hand," said the Senator’s wife, pointing to a broad strip of diachylon plaster that ran from the Duke’s wrist to the ball of his thumb. "Yes, I—I grazed it rather badly against the wheel in getting out of a cab," Beaumanoir replied with a momentary loss of his self-possession. The discomposure passed at once, and only the observer on the hearth-rug noticed it. The same shrewd observer presently perceived that the visitor was definitely leading the conversation to the subject of the arrival in England of Senator Sherman; and, more than that, that he was waxing a shade more inquisitive than good-breeding allowed as to the nature of the senatorial journey. "Ah! he’s coming on political business, I think you told me?" the Duke remarked in a half-tone of interrogation on Leonie saying that her father, according to advices received that morning, was to sail in two days’ time on the _Campania_, and would be due at Liverpool early in the following week. "Well, it’s political business in a way," Mrs. Sherman struck in. "My husband is coming over in charge of a large amount of Government securities, which are to be deposited at the Bank of England against a shipment of English gold to the United States."