"She is a beautiful tiger," said Sir John, "not a domestic cat, as many women are; and she means mischief when her eyes fix upon any one in that way." Miss Lincoln looked at him in surprise, for he spoke earnestly, more earnestly than he knew himself; for something told him that the beautiful woman with the black gown and gleaming shoulders, sitting opposite to him, was dangerous to him and his friends. The dinner was over; the ladies swept from the room, Mrs. Carey following close at Miss Windsor's side. When the men had returned to sole possession of the dining-room the company separated into little groups. Jawkins fastened upon the Duke, whom Mr. Windsor relinquished with ill-concealed delight. Herr Diddlej sat turning a lump of sugar with brandy in his coffee spoon, and smoking cigarettes, which he rapidly rolled with his yellow-stained damp fingers. Mr. Lincoln sat with Sydney, who forgot his hypochondria over his cigar and became quite amusing, as the smile upon Lincoln's shrewd, kindly face testified, for Richard Lincoln was a flint upon which all intellectual steel struck fire. Sir John Dacre and Geoffrey grasped each other's hand with a firm grip, and looked into each other's eyes in silence for a moment. "I came down here to see you, Geoffrey, because I need you. "You know, John, that I am at your service, now and always." "It is not my service, Geoffrey," said Dacre. "But later for this. Here comes old Featherstone; we have come down here together. Here, let us get on the sofa; it is the same one we used to sit on when we came here in the hunting season in your father's day." "I did not have a chance to say anything to you while the ladies were present," said Featherstone, sitting down between his friends. "I am very glad to see you. I had heard nothing about you since you left Paris. They tell me that you are living in the neighborhood." "Yes, just over there," indicated Geoffrey with his thumb. "You are to stop three days, I hear. You must both come to see me. You will be my first guests since I came back to my estate." "You look as well as ever," said Featherstone. "But how we have made the running the wrong way, to be sure, since I last saw you." Featherstone made a gesture with his left hand, and looked inquiringly at his friends; but Geoffrey, though he noticed the gesture, did not attach any significance to it. He raised his glass of port over a carafe of water. "The King," he said. All three drank, and Dacre whispered, "No more of this, Featherstone. I shall see Geoffrey this evening; he is not one of us yet." "What an attractive woman Mrs. Oswald Carey is!" exclaimed Featherstone. "You knew her before, did you not, Geoffrey?" "I was her father's pupil before I went to Oxford."