Selingman’s supper party was in some respects
both distinctive and unusual. Norgate, looking
around him, thought that he had never in his life
been among such a motley assemblage of people.
There were eight or nine musical comedy young ladies;
a couple of young soldiers, one of whom he knew slightly,
who had arrived as escorts to two of the young ladies;
Prince Edward of Lenemaur; a youthful peer, who by
various misdemeanours had placed himself outside the
pale of any save the most Bohemian society, and several
other men whose faces were unfamiliar. They occupied
a round table just inside the door of the restaurant,
and they sat there till long after the lights were
lowered. The conversation all the time was of
the most general and frivolous description, and Selingman,
as the hour grew later, seemed to grow larger and
redder and more joyous. The only hint at any
serious conversation came from the musical comedy star
who sat at Norgate’s left.
“Do you know our host very well?” she
asked Norgate once.
“I am afraid I can’t say that I know him
well at all,” Norgate replied. “I
met him in the train coming from Berlin, a few nights
ago.”
“He is the most original person,” she
declared. “He entertains whenever he has
a chance; he makes new friends every hour; he eats
and drinks and seems always to be enjoying himself
like an overgrown baby. And yet, all the time
there is such a very serious side to him. One
feels that he has a purpose in it all.”
“Perhaps he has,” Norgate ventured.
“Perhaps he has,” she agreed, lowering
her voice a little. “At least, I believe
one thing. I believe that he is a good German
and yet a great friend of England.”
“You don’t find the two incompatible,
then?”
“I do not,” the young lady replied firmly.
“I do not understand everything, of course,
but I am half German and half English, so I can appreciate
both sides, and I do believe that Mr. Selingman, if
he had not been so immersed in his business, might
have been a great politician.”
The conversation drifted into other channels.
Norgate was obliged to give some attention to the
more frivolous young lady on his right. The general
exodus to the bar smoking-room only took place long
after midnight. Every one was speaking of going
on to a supper club to dance, and Norgate quietly
slipped away. He took a hurried leave of his host.
“You will excuse me, won’t you?”
he begged. “Enjoyed my evening tremendously.
I’d like you to come and dine with me one night.”
“We will meet at the club to-morrow afternoon,”
Selingman declared. “But why not come on
with us now? You are not weary? They are
taking me to a supper club, these young people.
I have engaged myself to dance with Miss Morgen—I,
who weigh nineteen stone! It will be a thing to
see. Come with us.”
Norgate excused himself and left the place a moment
later. It was a fine night, and he walked slowly
towards Pall Mall, deep in thought. Outside one
of the big clubs on the right-hand side, a man descended
from a taxicab just as Norgate was passing. They
almost ran into one another.
