The elderly barrister rose to the bait at once. He was quite ready to talk about Edwards; he was always ready to talk about anybody with whom he was acquainted. “I have had a card too; going to be a rather big thing, I am told. About half a dozen of us here have been asked. Edwards doesn’t mix very freely with the members, rather keeps himself to himself. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t come here very often, travels abroad a lot.” “No, I haven’t often met him,” said Lydon in a careless tone. “Who is he, and what is he? I suppose you know?” Mr. Joyce smiled; he was very proud of his general knowledge, which he acquired by his assiduous attendance at the club. “I know as much as anybody else, I think, but there doesn’t seem very much to know about him. He talks very little about himself. He is a Cambridge man, comes, I believe, of a good old Sussex family, follows no profession or occupation, has private means.” The information was decidedly meagre; but it was certain that if this was all Mr. Joyce knew, nobody knew any more. “Rather a surprise this marriage, isn’t it?” asked Lydon after a pause. “I learn from Stormont that they were married a very short time ago abroad, I think he said in Paris.” “Quite right,” confirmed the barrister. “We knew nothing about it here till quite lately. But you see that is not to be wondered at. Nobody of the half-dozen who have received invitations is more than just a club acquaintance. I suppose they really want to fill the rooms. He rushed in here about a week ago, told me what you know, that he was recently married, had taken a house in Curzon Street, and they were going to hold a reception, sort of house warming. He was going to send cards to a few of the members. Would I pass on to them what he had told me, as he might not be in the club again before the party came off?” After lunch, Lydon took a taxi down to Craven Street, and imparted to Grewgus the result of his interview with Joyce, both men agreeing that what he had learned from that gentleman was practically no more than what they knew already. The party was a week hence. Grewgus was still very bent upon going, but he recognized the impossibility of getting there. “If I could get a chance, I would go as a waiter,” he said. “Well, it’s no use thinking about it. You say that you will be leaving about seven. I’ll be hanging about outside from half-past six--there’s sure to be the usual staring crowds outside. If you’ve nothing better to do, look out for me and follow me. When we are well out of view, we can go into some place and you can tell me anything that you think may be useful to us.” On the day appointed, Leonard went to Curzon Street. His afternoon had been a pretty busy one, and he did not arrive there till close upon six. The rooms were quite full and it was a little time before he met his hostess, who had abandoned her position at the door some time ago. She greeted him cordially, and after a few words with her he passed on.