But Lord Vignoles, having caught his wife's eye, was performing a humorous grimace, and, watch in hand, delivering a pantomimic indictment of American unpunctuality. At which moment Miss Oppner was announced, and Lady Vignoles made a pretty _moue_ of triumph. Zoe Oppner entered the room, regally carrying her small head crowned with the slightly frizzy mop of chestnut hair, conscious of her fine eyes, her perfect features, and her pretty shoulders, happy in her slim young beauty, and withal wholly unaffected. Therein lay her greatest charm. A beautiful woman, fully aware of her loveliness, she was too sensible to be vain of a gift of the gods--to pride herself upon a heavenly accident. "Why, Zoe!" said Lady Vignoles, "what's become of uncle?" "Pa couldn't get," announced Zoe composedly; "so I came along without him. Told me to apologise, but didn't explain. I've promised to rejoin him early, so I shall have to quit directly after dinner. The car is coming for me." Lord Vignoles looked amused. "_Les affaires!_" he said resignedly. "These Americans!" Dinner was announced. The usual air of slightly annoyed surprise crept over the faces of the company at the announcement, so that to the uninitiate it would have seemed that no one was hungry. However, they accepted the inevitable. Then Vignoles made a discovery. "I say, Sheila," he exclaimed, "where is your American efficiency? We're thirteen!" His wife made a rapid mental calculation and flushed slightly. "Anybody might do it!" she pouted; "and it's uncle's fault, anyway!" "Why!" exclaimed Zoe Oppner, "you're surely not going to make a fuss over a silly thing like that!" "A lot of people don't like it," declared Lady Vignoles hurriedly. "I shouldn't mind, of course, if it happened at somebody else's house." Zimmermann strolled up to the group. "I gather that we number thirteen?" he said. "That is so," replied Vignoles; "but," dropping his voice, "I don't think anyone else has noticed it yet." "A romantic idea occurs to me!" smiled the novelist. "I submit it in all deference----" "Oh, go on, Mr. Zimmermann!" cried Zoe, with sparkling eyes. "Why not, upon the precedent of our ancient Arabian friend, Es-Sindibad of the Sea, summon to the feast some chance wayfarer?" "Oh, I say!" protested the host mildly. "Do you mean to go outside in Cadogan Gardens and stop anybody that comes along?" "Well," said Zimmermann, "it should, strictly, be some pious person who tarries there to extol Allah! But if we waited for such a traveller I fear the soup would be spoiled! You are a gentleman short, I think? So make it, simply, the first gentleman." "But he might be a tramp or a taxi-driver, or worse!" protested Vignoles. "That is true," agreed the other. "So let us determine upon a criterion of respectability. Shall we say the first man, provided he be agreeable, who wears a dress-suit?"