had noticed anything in the least out of the common.

"This is very dramatic," Gurdon said. "Here is a melo-drama actually
taking place in a comedy 'set' like this. I am glad you will be in a
position later on to gratify my curiosity. I confess I should like to
learn something more about this Mark Fenwick, who does not appear to be
in the least like one's idea of the prosaic money spinner."

"He isn't," Venner said grimly. "Anything but that. Why, three years ago
that man was as poor and desperate as the most wretched outcast who
walks the streets of London to-night. And one thing you may be certain
of--wherever you dine from now to your dying day, you will be under the
roof of no more diabolical scoundrel than the creature who calls himself
Mark Fenwick."

There was a deep note in Venner's voice that did not fail to stimulate
Gurdon's curiosity. He glanced again at the millionaire, who appeared to
be talking in some foreign tongue with his companion. The tall, fair girl
with the shining hair had her back to the friends, so they could not see
her face, and when she spoke it was in a tone so low that it was not
possible to catch anything more than the sweetness of her voice.

"I wonder what she is doing with him?" Gurdon said. "At any rate, she is
English enough. I never saw a woman with a more thoroughbred air. She is
looking this way."

Just for a moment the girl turned her head, and Venner caught a full
sight of her face. It was only for an instant; then the fair head was
turned again, and the girl appeared to resume her dinner. Venner jumped
from his chair and took three strides across the room. He paused there as