CHAPTER IV

UNDER A CLOUD


Exactly one week later, six men were smoking their after-dinner cigars at
the same round table in the dining-room at the Sheridan Club. As a rule,
it was the hour when, with all the reserve of the day thrown aside,
badinage and jest reigned supreme, and the humourist came to his own.
To-night chairs were drawn a little closer together, voices were subdued,
and the conversation was of a more serious order. Not even the pleasant
warmth of the room, the fragrance of tobacco, and the comfortable sense
of having dined, could altogether dispel a feeling of uneasiness which
all more or less shared. It chanced that all six were friends of Herbert
Wrayson's.

The Colonel, as usual, was in the chair, but even on his kindly features
the cloud hovered.

"Of course," he said, "none of us who know Wrayson well would believe for
a moment that he could be connected in any way with this beastly affair.
The unfortunate part of it is, that others, who do not know him, might
easily be led to think otherwise!"

"It is altogether his own fault, too," Mason remarked. "He gave his
evidence shockingly."