past six. He went into the cafe and ordered a light dinner, which
he consumed with much obvious enjoyment. Then he lit a cigar and
went into the smoking room. Selecting a pile of newspapers, he
drew up an easy chair to the fire and made himself comfortable.

"Seems to me I may have a longish wait," he said to himself.

As a matter of fact, he was disappointed. At precisely seven
o'clock, Mr. Richard Vanderpole strolled into the room and, after
a casual glance around, approached his chair and touched him on
the shoulder. In his evening clothes the newcomer was no longer
obtrusively American. He was dressed in severely English fashion,
from the cut of his white waistcoat to the admirable poise of his
white tie. He smiled as he patted Coulson upon the shoulder.

"This is Mr. Coulson, I'm sure," he declared,--"Mr. James B.
Coulson from New York?"

"You're dead right," Mr. Coulson admitted, laying down his
newspaper and favoring his visitor with a quick upward glance.

"This is great!" the young man continued. "Just off the boat, eh?
Well, I am glad to see you,--very glad indeed to make your
acquaintance, I should say."

Mr. Coulson replied in similar terms. A waiter who was passing
through the room hesitated, for it was a greeting which generally
ended in a summons for him.

"What shall it be?" the newcomer asked.