Mallinson put up his glasses and looked. Clarice read recognition in a
lift of eyebrows, and guessed from his hesitation to answer who it was
that he recognised.

'Well, who is it?'

'Where?' asked Mallinson, assuming an air of perplexity.

'Where you were looking,' said she quietly.

'It's Stephen Drake,' interposed Fielding, and 'Hulloa!' he added in a
voice of surprise as he observed the man whom Drake joined.

'Drake! Stephen Drake!' exclaimed Mr. Le Mesurier, leaning forward
hurriedly. 'Point him out to me, Fielding.'

The latter obeyed, and Mr. Le Mesurier watched Drake until he disappeared
through the doorway, with what seemed to Mallinson a singular intentness.
The father's manner waked him to a suspicion that he might possibly have
mistaken the daughter's motive in seeking Drake's acquaintance. Was it
merely a whim, a fancy, strengthened to the point of activity by the
sight of his name in print? Or was it something more? Was there some
personal connection between Drake and the Le Mesuriers of which the
former was in some way ignorant? He was still pondering the question when
Clarice spoke to him.

'So that was the bourgeois, was it?' she said, bending forwards and
almost whispering the words. Mallinson flushed.

'Was it?' he asked. 'I can't see. I am rather short-sighted.'