“Here, Gerald, come this way; I want to speak to you!” he exclaimed, without heeding the presence of the others. He seized Mauleverer’s arm, and half led, half thrust him out of the room. One or two of the by-standers saw what was happening, and smiled. Hammond turned sharply on Despencer, whose smile was peculiarly malicious. “I shall be obliged if you can come with me into the conservatory for five minutes. I wish to speak to you privately,” he said. Despencer bowed with an air of bland unconcern, and followed him, while the voice outside sounded again: “_Alderman Dobbin!_” SCENE VII A QUESTION OF CHEMISTRY In order to reach the conservatory Hammond and Despencer had to thread their way through the concert-room. But their task was rendered easier by the fact that Belle Yorke was just standing up to sing. The mob, attracted partly by her reputation as a singer, and partly by the story in circulation about her and their host, whose hurried exit on her appearance had not gone unremarked, were crowding towards that end of the saloon where the piano stood, and thus the two men were able to make their way round the wall at the deserted end. As Hammond had anticipated, they found the conservatory empty. It was little more than a long, narrow balcony, roofed over with glass, and running along the side of the house. Hammond was the first to reach it, but he stood back to allow Despencer to enter. Despencer walked past him after a deprecating shrug and bow, and then turned to meet his questioner, who came in quickly, shutting the door behind them. For a moment the two men stood face to face, scrutinizing each other like two duellists who are uncertain of each other’s play. Hammond’s gaze was stern and threatening. Despencer’s, equally unflinching, was that of a man who does not quite know what is required of him, but has nothing to fear or to conceal. The situation was exactly what he had foreseen and desired. His former reference to Belle Yorke had had the appearance of being accidental. He had been far too clever to seek to press it home at the time. Now, if Hammond himself chose to revive the subject of his own accord, anything that Despencer might say would appear to be dragged out of him against his will. He felt perfectly satisfied with his play, so far. He still held all his best cards in reserve, and he had thrown the lead into his adversary’s hands. “Well, what is the mystery?” he said, lightly, after waiting some time for Hammond to speak. “I want to ask you for some explanation of what you said the other afternoon.” Despencer was mildly amazed. “What did I say? I really don’t remember,” he murmured. “About Miss Yorke. You referred to some story about her--some report connecting her name with Lord Severn’s.” Despencer drew back; his manner became reproachful. “Oh, but, my dear sir, you must see that that was pure inadvertence on my part. I was not to know that the lady was a friend of yours.”