Mr. Greene, for every film I've seen of yours in the United States."

Mr. Greene beamed with satisfaction.

"Well, I am glad to hear you've come across my stuff," he declared. "I've
made some name for myself on the films and I am proud of it. Raymond
Greene it is, at your service."

"Joseph P. Hyam's mine," the large American announced, watching the
disappearance of his soup plate with an air of regret. "I'm in the
clothing business. If my wife were here, she'd say you wouldn't think it
to look at me. Never was faddy about myself, though," he added, with a
glance at Mr. Greene's very correct dinner attire.

"You ought to remember me, Mr. Greene," one of the two men remarked from
the right-hand side of the table. "I've played golf with you at Baltusrol
more than once."

Mr. Greene glanced surreptitiously at the card and smiled.

"Why, it's James P. Busby, of course!" he exclaimed. "Your father's the
Busby Iron Works, isn't he?"

The young man nodded.

"And this is Mr. Caroll, one of our engineers," he said, indicating a
rather rough-looking personage by his side.

"Delighted to meet you both," Mr. Greene assured them. "Say, I remember
your golf, Mr. Busby! You're some driver, eh? And those long putts of