"Ah, but certainly," cried Madame with vivacity and her splendid eyes flashed; "for my part I delight in cards!" "My preference is for Patience," said Mrs. Tesk solemnly. "I find it relieves the strain on my mind. So long as the stakes are not very high, Mr. Spruce, I shall be delighted to join you and Madame and Mademoiselle Zara in a friendly game. Oh, you will not find us dull, I think. And when Mr. Owain Hench returns he will be able to inform you about many parts of the world not usually accessible to the ordinary person." Spruce rather resented Mrs. Tesk calling him an ordinary person, as he considered that he was head and shoulders above the assembled company. However, he did not allow any sign of annoyance at her density to escape him, but uttered a little chuckling laugh of acquiescence. "I'll be glad to see Hench again. He was always a good chap." "Ah!" Madame glanced at her defiant daughter and then at Spruce; "it appears, then, that you know Mr. Hench?" "We were at school together." "So! He is a charming young man." Zara laughed meaningly. "With money mamma thinks that he would be still more charming," she said significantly, and the sallow face of Madame grew red. "It is true," she admitted frankly. "When one has a daughter, one must be careful of charming young men who are not rich. What do you say, Mr. Spruce?" "Well, I never had a daughter, so I can't say anything," replied the little man, who was rapidly understanding many things. "And your opinion, Mr. Bracken, if I may ask it?" He put the question advisedly, as the mention of Hench's name had brought a scowl to the face of the violinist. "Money isn't everything," growled Bracken, passing his hand through his rough hair, which he wore a trifle long, after the fashion of musicians. "Hench is a good fellow, and being clever will be rich some day." "Ah! no"--Madame Alpenny shook her head vehemently--"he is too--what you call--careless of money. He is idle; he is a mystery." Spruce opened his pale blue eyes at the last word, and put in his monocle to stare at the Hungarian lady. "There never was any mystery about Hench at school," he observed rather puzzled. "He was always rather a commonplace sort of chap." "There is a mystery," insisted Madame more vehemently than ever. "I have seen him before, but where--no, it is impossible to say." "You don't mean to say that he is wanted by the police?" asked Bracken. "Don't speak like that!" cried Zara with a frown. "Mr. Hench is the most honourable man in the world. There is nothing mean about him." "He is all that is agreeable and polite," said her mother gravely; "and but for one thing I have no fault to find with him. Still, I have seen him somewhere, that young gentleman; he has a history!" "History! mystery! You jump to conclusions, mamma." "Zara, my father was a diplomatist, and I am observant." "Suspicious, I should say," remarked Bracken under his breath.