"
"Won't you join us?" Lord Camperdown asked courteously. "We are
only a small party--the Portuguese Ambassador and his wife, the
Duke of Medchester, and Stanley Phillipson."
Mr. Sabin rose at once.
"I shall be delighted," he said.
Lord Camperdown hesitated for a moment.
"I present Monsieur le Due de Souspennier, I presume?" he remarked,
smiling.
Mr. Sabin bowed.
"I am Mr. Sabin," he said, "at the hotels and places where one
travels. To my friends I have no longer an incognito. It is not
necessary."
It was a brilliant little supper party, and Mr. Sabin contributed
at least his share to the general entertainment. Before they
dispersed he had to bring out his tablets to make notes of his
engagements. He stood on the top of the steps above the palm-court
to wish them good-bye, leaning on his stick. Helene turned back
and waved her hand.
"He is unchanged," she murmured, "yet I fear that there must be
trouble."
"Why? He seemed cheerful enough," her husband remarked.
She dropped her voice a little.
"Lucille is in London. She is staying at Dorset House."
CHAPTER X
Mr. Sabin was deep in thought. He sat in an easy-chair with his
back to the window, his hands crossed upon his stick, his eyes
fixed upon the fire. Duson was moving noiselessly about the room,
cutting the morning's supply of newspapers and setting them out
upon the table.
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