There were present at Lady Ferriby's, for instance, a number of
ministers, some cabinet, others dissenting. Here, a man leaning against
the wall wore a blue ribbon across his shirt front. There, another,
looking bigger and more self-confident, had no shirt front at all. His
was the cheap distinction of unsuitable clothes.

"Ha! Miss Ferriby, glad to see you," he said as he entered, holding out
a hand which had the usual outward signs of industrial honesty.

Joan shook the hand frankly, and its possessor passed on.

"Is that the gas-man?" inquired Major White, gravely. He had been
standing beside her ever since his arrival, seeking, it seemed, the
protection of one who understood these social functions. It is to be
presumed that the major was less bewildered than he looked.

"Hush!" And Joan said something hurriedly in White's large ear.
"Everybody has him," she concluded; and the explanation brought certain
calm into the mildly surprised eye behind the eye-glass. White
recognized the phrase and its conclusive contemporary weight.

"Here's a flat-backed man!" he exclaimed, with a ring of relief. "Been
drilled, this man. Gad! He's proud!" added the major, as the
new-comer passed Joan with rather a cold bow.

"Oh, that's the detective," explained Joan. "So many people, you know;
and so mixed. Everybody has them. Here's Tony--at last."

Tony Cornish was indeed making his way through the crowd towards them.