Mrs. Kildair took up her glasses suddenly, turning them haphazard. The remark revived in her all the agitation of the afternoon. "I shall never be able to sit through this," she said to herself, leaning forward. "If I only knew—" Mrs. Fontaine, could she have known the thoughts that were galloping through the brain of her guest, would have been astounded at their similarity. Mrs. Kildair, too, had her ambitions, ambitions as passionately held and nourished on one hope. The interview that afternoon with Slade, an interview in which for the first time she had made him feel the need of her, had all at once brought the prize within her grasp. If he could but emerge from this one supreme danger, she said to herself that she had at last the opportunity to rate herself here among the leaders of this society which she coveted, had always coveted and would never cease to covet. "Give me Slade and twenty millions even," she said to herself with a great intaking of breath, "and I can do anything. I will dominate this in five years." But the more violently burned the fire of her desire, the more weak and faltering was her hope. "Ah, will he win out—can he—how is it possible?" she said bitterly. "Oh, what a gamble it all is—and I must sit here—continue to sit here like a stone—while in an hour it may all be decided!" "You’ve seen Fornez in _Carmen_?" said Taleza-Corti to Gunther. "Very fine." "First appearance here," said Gunther briefly. He touched Beecher on the arm. "Friends of yours over there, Ted." "Who?" "The Cheevers—little to your right—row above. Hello," he added suddenly. "See who’s with them?" "Who?" said Beecher, who did not recognize the rest of the party. Gunther placed his finger on his lips, with a warning glance at Mrs. Kildair, and then, bending forward, said: "I say, Mrs. Kildair, who is that tall, rather black chap in the box with the Stanley Cheevers? He’s looking this way now." Mrs. Kildair raised her glasses. "Mr. Mapleson," she said directly. "He’s the head of Sontag & Company, the jewelers, isn’t he?" "Yes, I believe so." "Queer looking chap—ever know him?" "Yes. Why?" She turned, looking at the questioner with a fixity that told him she was not entirely ignorant of his real interest. "He must have been in Paris when you were," he said quickly. "I hear he had quite a career there." She turned away with indifference, gazed once more through her glasses and said: "Yes, there were quite a number of stories about his rise. He is a man with a genius for friendships." "Rather attentive to Mrs. Cheever, isn’t he?" persisted Gunther. "I didn’t know it." Beecher did not then seize the drift of the inquiry, still absorbed as he was in the attempt to gain a clearer view of the profile in the orchestra which reminded him of Nan Charters. Lady Mowbray continued silent, busy as a true Briton in the search for the ridiculous in this assemblage which at first glance had impressed her.