Presently he found the Stormont party. The portly Howard was looking very happy and radiant. “A thorough success,” he whispered to the young man. “Zillah’s a born hostess and seems immensely admired. Most of the people here are the husband’s friends; she has been so seldom in London that she doesn’t know many people yet. But it won’t be long before she does. I’m delighted it is going off so well. I’m very fond of Zillah; she’s such a sweet girl.” Lydon thought grimly that the unfortunate Calliard had said the same thing. He inquired if Mr. Whitehouse was there. “No,” was the answer. “He was awfully disappointed he could not be here to witness her triumph. But he was prevented by important business. I believe he is dining with them after the show.” The mother was not there. Well, her parents were supposed to be dead and the uncle was absent. No doubt, Mrs. Edwards had her own good reasons for not having her own family round her. Casually he said to Stormont: “I’ve just caught a glimpse of Edwards; he hasn’t seen me yet. Do you know he’s a member of my club, the Excelsior?” Was it fancy, or did he detect a rather shifty look in Stormont’s eyes as he replied to him? “Yes, he told me when I first mentioned your name. What a small place the world is, eh?” “It came as a surprise to you all, Gloria told me. Did you or her uncle know anything of Edwards before she married him?” “Never set eyes on him,” came the prompt answer. “Zillah has been a very sly little puss over it; they seem to have met abroad first. But he’s a delightful fellow with lots of money. There’s no doubt she has done wonderfully well for herself. And he knows heaps of good people. As you know, I don’t go about in London, but this seems to me decidedly a smart party.” Lydon was intensely disgusted with the hypocrisy of the man, his effrontery in denying any previous knowledge of the man whom he had sent to Paris with his instructions to his “clever Zillah.” But he quite agreed with his last remarks, it certainly was a smart gathering, with so many beautifully gowned women and immaculately dressed men. The Excelsior Club, he noticed, had sent up its contingent to a man. Mr. Joyce was ubiquitous, and seemed to know a great many of the guests. Leonard was sure that the host had a footing in one world. He seemed to have an equally sure position in a more reputable one. “He knows people in every walk of life--artists, authors, fashionables,” went on the garrulous Stormont, who seemed in the very highest of spirits. “He belongs to half a dozen clubs, from the quite exclusive to the frankly Bohemian.” Gloria had been annexed by a very dandified young man. Mrs. Barnard was engaged with an elderly person of the well-preserved type. There came a sudden hush, a well-known professional was going to sing. Lydon left his companion and made a tour of the rooms.