been more composed and not obsessed with the idea that Sir Lucien had
deliberately intruded upon his plans for the evening, he could not
have failed to perceive that Mrs. Monte Irvin was feverishly
preoccupied with matters having no relation to dinner and the theatre.
But his private suspicions grew only the more acute.

"Then if the dinner is not off," he said, "may I come along and wait
for you?"

"At Kazmah's?" asked Mrs. Irvin. "Certainly." She turned to Sir
Lucien. "Shall you wait? It isn't much use as I'm dining with
Quentin."

"If I do not intrude," replied the baronet, "I will accompany you as
far as the cave of the oracle, and then bid you good night."

The trio proceeded along old Bond Street. Quentin Gray regarded the
story of Kazmah as a very poor lie devised on the spur of the moment.
If he had been less infatuated, his natural sense of dignity must have
dictated an offer to release Mrs. Irvin from her engagement. But
jealousy stimulates the worst instincts and destroys the best. He was
determined to attach himself as closely as the old Man of the Sea
attached himself to Es-Sindibad, in order that the lie might be
unmasked. Mrs. Irvin's palpable embarrassment and nervousness he
ascribed to her perception of his design.

A group of shop girls and others waiting for buses rendered it
impossible for the three to keep abreast, and Gray, falling to the
rear, stepped upon the foot of a little man who was walking close
behind them.