"Gentlemen," cried Lieutenant Clutterbuck, though he did not articulate the word with his customary precision; but his intentions were undoubtedly pacific. He happened to be holding the last of his decanters in his hand, and he swung it to and fro. "Gentlemen," he repeated, and as if to keep me company, he let the decanter slip out of his hand. It fell on the floor and split with a loud noise. "Well," said he, solemnly, "I have dropped a brooch," and he fumbled at his cravat. Another peal of laughter went up; and while it was still ringing, a man--what his name was I cannot remember, even if I ever knew it; I saw him for the first time that evening, and I have only once seen him since, but he was certainly--more sober than the rest--stooped over my chair and caught me by the arm. "Steve," said he, with a chuckle,--and from this familiarity to a new acquaintance I judge he was not so sober after all,--"do you notice the door?" The door was in the corner of the room to my right. I looked towards it: the brass handle shone like a gold ball in the sun. I looked back at my companion, and, shaking my arm free, I replied coldly: "I see it. It is a door, a mere door. But I do not notice it. It is not indeed noteworthy." "It is unlatched," said my acquaintance, with another chuckle. "I suppose it is not the only door in the world in that predicament." "But it was latched a moment ago," and with his forefinger he gently poked me in the ribs. "Then someone has turned the handle," said I, drawing myself away. "A most ingenious theory," said he, quite unabashed by my reserve, "and the truth. Someone _has_ turned the handle. Now who?" He winked with an extreme significance. "My dear sir, who?" I looked round the room. Mr. Macfarlane had resumed his game. Two gentlemen in a corner through all the din were earnestly playing putt with the cards. They had, however, removed their wigs, and their shaven heads gleamed unpleasantly. Others by the window were vociferating the chorus of a drinking song. Lieutenant Clutterbuck alone was near to the door. I was on the point of pronouncing his name when he lurched towards it, and instantly the door was closed. "It was someone outside," said I. "Precisely. Steve, you are not so devoid of sense as your friends would have me believe," continued my companion. "Now, who will be Lieutenant Clutterbuck's timorous visitor?" He drew his watch from his fob: "We may hazard a guess at the sex, I think, but for the rest---- Is it some fine lady from St. James's who has come in her chair at half-past one of the morning to keep an appointment which her careless courtier has forgotten?" "Hardly," I returned. "For your fine lady would hurry back to her chair with all the speed her petticoats allowed. She would not stay behind the door, which, I see, has again been opened." The familiar stranger laid his hand upon my shoulder and held me back in my chair at arm's length from him.