"Might one inquire," I asked, after a brief pause, "as to your own
profession? You are an American, are you not?"

"I am most certainly an American," Mr. Parker assented.

"In business?" I asked.

Mr. Parker looked round. Our table was comparatively isolated.

"I am an adventurer," he replied mysteriously.

I stared at him and repeated the word. He beamed pleasantly upon me.

"An adventurer! My daughter, whom you have seen here with me, is an
adventuress. We live by our wits and we do pretty well at it. Sometimes we
live in luxury. Sometimes we are up against it good and hard. The Ritz one
day, you know, and Bloomsbury the next; but lots of fun all the time."

I looked at him a little blankly.

"To a certain extent I suppose you are joking?" I asked.

"To no extent at all," he assured me. "By the by, as regards that packet;
would you mind just slipping it under this newspaper?"

I withdrew it from my pocket and obeyed him at once. Mr. Parker's fingers
seemed to play with it for a moment and I noticed at that moment what a
strong and capable hand he seemed to have, with fingers of unusual length
and suppleness.