Throughout the dinner the daughter of the house had sat practically
without a remark, and even when chorus effects were achieved by the
rest, remained with almost immobile features, merely glancing from one
to another, momentarily interested or openly bored. Several times the
American had looked furtively at the arresting face, marred by too
apparent mental resentment, but the barricade of Johnston Smyth's
angular personality had been too powerful for him to surmount with
anything but the most superficial persiflage.

He had watched her take a cigarette, accepting a light from Smyth, who
surrounded the action with a ludicrous dignity, when she looked up and
met his eyes.

'Mr. Selwyn,' she said, speaking with the same rapidity of phrasing
that had both held and exasperated him before, 'we are all waiting for
the verdict of the Man from America.'

'Over there,' he smiled, 'it is customary to take evidence before
giving a verdict.'

'Good,' boomed the resolutionist; 'very good!'

'Then,' said Lady Durwent, 'we seven shall constitute a jury.'

'Order!' Johnston Smyth rose to his feet and hammered the table with a
bottle. '_Oyez, oyez_, you hereby swear that you shall well and truly
try'----

'Can't,' said Norton Pyford, pulling himself up; 'I'm prejudiced.'