One afternoon a few days after his arrival he called at the Hastings' house, a great Colonial mansion within a stone's throw of his own headquarters. The mention of his name, however, seemed to chill all the hospitality out of the smiling face of the southern butler who answered his ring. Miss Van Teyl was out, and from the man's manner it was obvious that Miss Van Teyl would continue to be out for a very long time. Lutchester retraced his steps to the British Embassy, where he had spent most of the morning, and made his way to the sitting-room of one of the secretaries. The Honourable Philip Downing, who was eagerly waiting for a cable recalling him to take up a promised commission, welcomed him heartily. "Things are slack here to-day, old fellow. Let's go out to the Country Club and have a few sets of tennis or a game of golf, whichever you prefer," he suggested. "I've done my little lot till the evening." "Show on to-night, isn't there?" Lutchester inquired. "Just a reception. You're going to put in an appearance?" "I fancy so. Have you got your list of guests handy?" The young man dived into a drawer and produced a few typewritten sheets. "Alphabetical list of acceptances, with here and there a few personal notes," he pointed out, with an air of self-satisfaction. "I go through this list with the chief while he's changing for dinner." Lutchester ran his forefinger down the list. "Senator Theodore and Mrs. Hastings," he quoted. "By the bye, they have a niece staying with them." "Want a card for her?" the Honourable Philip inquired with a grin. "I should like it sent off this moment," Lutchester replied. The young man took a square, gilt-edged card from a drawer by his side, filled it out at Lutchester's dictation, rang the bell, and dispatched it by special messenger. "I've got my little buzzer outside," he observed. "We'll make tracks for the club, if you're ready." The two men played several sets of tennis and afterwards lounged in two wicker chairs, underneath a gigantic plane tree in a corner of the lawn. The place was crowded, and Philip Downing was an excellent showman. "Washington," he explained, "has never been so divided into opposite camps, and this is almost the only common meeting ground. Every one has to come here, of course. The German Staff play tennis and the Austrians all go in for polo. Here comes Ziduski. He's most fearfully popular with the ladies here--does us a lot of harm, they say. He's a great sticker for etiquette. He used to nod and call me Phil. Now you watch. He'll bow from his waist, as though he had corsets on. As a matter of fact, he's a good sportsman." Count Ziduski's bow was stiff enough but his intention was obvious. He stopped before the two men, exchanged a somewhat stilted greeting with Philip Downing, and turned to Lutchester. "I believe," he said, "that I have the honour of addressing Mr. Lutchester?" Lutchester rose to his feet. "That is my name," he admitted.