Even before this hint Mr Bunker had observed that the lady on the other side of him was possessed of exceptional attractions. For a little time he studied her out of the corners of his eyes. He noticed that the stall on the farther side of her was empty, that she once or twice looked round as though she expected somebody, and that she seemed not altogether unconscious of her new neighbours. He further observed that her face was of a type that is more usually engaged in attack than defence. Then he whispered, “Would you like to know her?” “Ach, yah!” replied the Baron, eagerly. “Bot—can you?” Mr Bunker smiled confidently. A few minutes later he happened to let his programme fall into her lap. “I beg your pardon,” he whispered, softly, and glanced into her eyes with a smile ready. His usual discernment had not failed him. She smiled, and instantly he produced his. A little later her opera-glasses happened to slip from her hand, and though they only slipped slowly, it was no doubt owing to his ready presence of mind that their fall was averted. This time their fingers happened to touch, and they smiled without an apology. He leant towards her, looking, however, at the play. They shared a laugh over a joke that she might have been excused for not understanding; presently a criticism of some situation escaped him inadvertently, and she smiled again; soon after she gave an exclamation and he answered sympathetically, and at the end of the act the curtain came down on an acquaintance already begun. As the lights were turned up, and here and there men began to go out, she again looked at the entrances in some apparent concern, either lest some one should not come in or lest some one should. “He is late,” said Mr Bunker, smiling. She gave a very enticing look of surprise, and consented to smile back before she coyly looked away again. “An erring husband, I presume.” She admitted that it was in fact a husband who had failed her. “But,” she added, “I’m afraid—I mean I expect he’ll come in after the next act. It’s so tiresome of him to disappoint me like this.” Mr Bunker expressed the deepest sympathy with her unfortunate predicament. “He has his ticket, of course?” But it seemed that she had both the tickets with her, an arrangement which he immediately denounced as likely to lead to difficulties when her husband arrived. He further, in the most obliging manner, suggested that he should take the ticket for the other seat to the booking office and leave instructions for its being given to the gentleman on his arrival. The lady gave him a curious little glance that seemed to imply a mixture of doubt as to his motives with confidence in his abilities, and then with many thanks agreed to his suggestion. Mr Bunker took the ticket and rose at once. “That I may be sure you are in good company while I am away,” said he, “permit me to introduce my friend the Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg.” And the Baron promptly took his vacant seat.