she wriggled and hopped away. But having been thus distinguished I
could do no less than follow her with my eyes to the door where the
chain of hands being broken all the masks were trying to get out at
once. Two gentlemen coming in out of the street stood arrested in
the crush. The Night (it must have been her idiosyncrasy) put her
tongue out at them, too. The taller of the two (he was in evening
clothes under a light wide-open overcoat) with great presence of
mind chucked her under the chin, giving me the view at the same
time of a flash of white teeth in his dark, lean face. The other
man was very different; fair, with smooth, ruddy cheeks and burly
shoulders. He was wearing a grey suit, obviously bought ready-
made, for it seemed too tight for his powerful frame.

That man was not altogether a stranger to me. For the last week or
so I had been rather on the look-out for him in all the public
places where in a provincial town men may expect to meet each
other. I saw him for the first time (wearing that same grey ready-
made suit) in a legitimist drawing-room where, clearly, he was an
object of interest, especially to the women. I had caught his name
as Monsieur Mills. The lady who had introduced me took the
earliest opportunity to murmur into my ear: "A relation of Lord
X." (Un proche parent de Lord X.) And then she added, casting up
her eyes: "A good friend of the King." Meaning Don Carlos of
course.

I looked at the proche parent; not on account of the parentage but
marvelling at his air of ease in that cumbrous body and in such
tight clothes, too. But presently the same lady informed me
further: "He has come here amongst us un naufrage."