It was only toward the end of the evening that Monty found his
reward in a moment with Barbara Drew. He stood before her,
squaring his shoulders belligerently to keep away intruders, and
she smiled up at him in that bewildering fashion of hers. But it
was only for an instant, and then came a terrifying din from the
dining-room, followed by the clamor of crashing glass. The guests
tried for a moment to be courteously oblivious, but the noise was
so startling that such politeness became farcical. The host, with
a little laugh, went down the hall. It was the beautiful screen
near the ceiling that had fallen. A thousand pieces of shattered
glass covered the place. The table was a sickening heap of crushed
orchids and sputtering candles. Frightened servants rushed into
the room from one side just as Brewster entered from the other.
Stupefaction halted them. After the first pulseless moment of
horror, exclamations of dismay went up on all sides. For Monty
Brewster the first sensation of regret was followed by a
diabolical sense of joy.

"Thank the Lord!" he said softly in the hush.

The look of surprise he encountered in the faces of his guests
brought him up with a jerk.

"That it didn't happen while we were dining," he added with serene
thankfulness. And his nonchalance scored for him in the idle game
he was playing.