They stood in the archway between the winter-garden and the dancing-gallery, from which they could command a view of the passing crowds. Francis scanned the faces of the men and women with intense interest. Many of them were known to him by sight, others were strangers. There was a judge, a Cabinet Minister, various members of the aristocracy, a sprinkling from the foreign legations, and although the stage was not largely represented, there were one or two well-known actors. The guests seemed to belong to no universal social order, but to Francis, watching them almost eagerly, they all seemed to have something of the same expression, the same slight air of weariness, of restless and unsatisfied desires. “I can't believe that the place is real, or that these people we see are not supers,” Margaret whispered. “I feel every moment that a clock will strike and that it will all fade away.” “I'm afraid I'm too material for such imaginings,” Francis replied, “but there is a quaintly artificial air about it all. We must go and look for Wilmore and Lady Cynthia.” They turned back into the enervating atmosphere of the winter-garden, and came suddenly face to face with Sir Timothy, who had escorted a little party of his guests to see the fountain, and was now returning alone. “You have been dancing, I am glad to see,” the latter observed. “I trust that you are amusing yourselves?” “Excellently, thank you,” Francis replied. “And so far,” Sir Timothy went on, with a faint smile, “you find my entertainment normal? You have no question yet which you would like to ask?” “Only one--what do you do with your launch up the river on moonless nights, Sir Timothy?” Sir Timothy's momentary silence was full of ominous significance. “Mr. Ledsam,” he said, after a brief pause, “I have given you almost carte blanche to explore my domains here. Concerning the launch, however, I think that you had better ask no questions at present.” “You are using it to-night?” Francis persisted. “Will you come and see, my venturesome guest?” “With great pleasure,” was the prompt reply. Sir Timothy glanced at his watch. “That,” he said, “is one of the matters of which we will speak at a quarter to twelve. Meanwhile, let me show you something. It may amuse you as it has done me.” The three moved back towards one of the arched openings which led into the ballroom. “Observe, if you please,” their host continued, “the third couple who pass us. The girl is wearing green--the very little that she does wear. Watch the man, and see if he reminds you of any one.”