Passing along the Strand, he led his friend down a street running at right angles to the banks of the Thames, and soon entered the dingy building where the Harum-Scarums were accustomed to hold high festival. Proceeding upstairs, he entered a large room, at one end of which was a fire and a silver grill, presided over by a man-cook dressed in white. The room was becoming crowded by men of all degrees and ages, clean-shaven actors and hirsute journalists having the preponderance, and more than one greeted Crieff by name. He soon found a table, and ordered a plain supper for himself and friend. A loud chatter filled the air, and every one was talking of the _débutante_ at the Parthenon. Among the other faces around him Sutherland at once recognised the very young gentleman and the lean man in the muffler whom he had heard discoursing at the theatre saloon. ‘It’s all right,’ said Crieff quietly. ‘The jury are bringing in an unanimous verdict of “successful.” I think I shall abuse her in the “Chronicle” just to show I’ve a mind of my own.’ ‘If you do, I’ll call you out!’ ‘There’s Abrahams the manager, button-holing Day of the “Sun,” and rolling his eyes in well-feigned enthusiasm. If you watch him, you’ll see him take the jury seriatim, and go through the same performance with every one of them. I thought so! He’s ordering champagne.’ ‘Who is that gentleman?’ asked Sutherland, glancing towards the next table, where a little bald-headed man, surrounded by many admiring friends, was trifling with the cruet. Sutherland had recognised the individual who, in the saloon of the theatre, had introduced the little anecdote of his amours in Constantinople. ‘What, don’t you know him? That’s Lagardère, of the “Plain Speaker.”’ ‘Indeed! A journal, I presume?’ ‘_The_ journal of the period, based upon the new principle of extenuating nothing and setting down everything in malice. Lagardère can tell you to a nicety where La Perichole buys her false teeth, how much money Mrs. Harkaway Spangle pays her washerwoman weekly, and when any given leader of society is likely to pawn her diamonds or elope with her cook. You know Tennyson’s lines-- A lie which is all a lie can be met with and fought with outright, But a lie which is half a truth is a harder matter to fight! Lagardère has achieved the complete art of so mingling truth and falsehood together that it is impossible even for himself to distinguish the one from the other. What wine will you take?’ ‘None. I am a water drinker.’ ‘Still! Well, you thrive upon the crystal draught. Hallo, what’s Lagardère romancing about now?’ As he spoke the gentleman in question was leaning back in his chair, and in his peculiar drawl, to the edification of his immediate friends and admirers, speaking as follows:--