"I'm sure I am."

Deane looked at his wife meditatively.

"You think," he asked, "that being in danger might make people----"

"Reveal their inmost natures and feelings? I'm sure of it."

"Gad! Then we might try."

"What do you mean, Roger?"

"Nothing. You're going out with the General to-night? Very well, I shall take a turn on my own hook."

As he strolled toward the smoking-room, he met Charlie Ellerton.

"Well, old fellow, had a pleasant afternoon?"

"Glorious!" answered Charlie in a husky voice.

"Are we to congratulate you?"

"I--I--well, it's not _absolutely_ settled yet, Deane, but--soon, I hope."

"That's right. Miss Bussey told me the whole story, and I think you're precious lucky to get such a girl."

"Yes, aren't I?"

"You don't look over and above radiant."

"Do you want me to go grinning about the hotel like an infernal hyena?"

"I think a chastened joy would be appropriate."

"Don't be an a.s.s, Deane. I suppose you think you're funny."

Sir Roger pa.s.sed on, with a smile on his lips. As he pa.s.sed the reading-room Dora Bellairs came out.

"Well, Miss Dora, enjoyed your afternoon?"

"Oh, awfully--except that dreadful explosion."

"You must excuse a friend, you know. I'm awfully glad it's all come right in the end."

"You--you're very kind, Sir Roger. It's--it's--there's nothing quite settled yet."

"Oh, of course not, but still----! Well, I heard all about it and I think he's worthy of you. I can't say more. He seems a capital fellow."

"Yes, isn't he? I----"

"Yes?"

"Oh, I'm very, very, _very_ happy," and, after making this declaration in a shaky voice, she fairly ran away down the pa.s.sage. Deane watched her as she went.

"Maud's right," said he. "She always is. There's nothing for it but dynamite. I wonder where it's to be got?"

General Bellairs clapped him on the shoulders.

"Inclined for a turn, Deane? I'm going to see an old servant of mine--Painter's his name. He married my poor wife's French maid, and set up as a restaurant-keeper in the Palais-Royal. I always look him up when I come to Paris."

"I'm your man," answered Deane, and they set out for Mr. Painter's establishment. It proved to be a neat little place, neither of the very cheap nor of the very sumptuous cla.s.s, and the General was soon promising to bring the whole party to dejeuner there. Painter was profuse in thanks and called Madame to thank the General. The General at once entered into conversation with the trim little woman.

"Nice place yours, Painter," observed Deane.

"Pleased to hear you say so, Sir Roger."

"Very nice. Ah--er--heard of the explosion?"

"Yes, Sir Roger. Abominable thing, sir. These Socialists----"

"Quite so. Never had one here, I suppose?"

"No, sir. We're pretty well looked after in here."

"Like one?" asked Deane.

"Beg pardon, sir. Ha-ha. No, sir."

"Because I want one."

"You--beg pardon, sir?"

"Look here, Painter. I'll drop in here after dinner for some coffee. I want to talk to you. See? Not a word to the General."

"Glad to see you, Sir Roger, but----"

"All right. I'll put you up to it. Here they come. Present me to Madame."

They went away, haying; arranged with the Painters for luncheon and a private room on the next day but one.

"Lunch for eight," said Deane. "At least, General, I thought we might ask our friends from the European."

"Yes--and young Laing."

"Oh, I forgot him. Yes, Laing, of course. For nine--neuf, you know, please, madame."

"That's all right," said the General, "I'm glad to do him a turn."

"Yes, that's all right," a.s.sented Sir Roger, with the slightest possible chuckle. "We shall have a jolly lunch, eh, General?"