“But they are already of the same kin,” Felix remarked.  “Their interests and aims are alike.  Their destinies are surely identical.”

Mr. Sabin, who had lit his cigarette, watched the blue smoke curl upwards, and was thoughtful for a moment.

“My dear Felix!” he said.  “You are very, very young.  The interests of two great nations such as America and England can never be alike.  It is the language of diplomacy, but it is also the language of fools.”

Their conversation was for the moment interrupted by a fresh murmur of applause, rising above the loved hum of conversation, the laughter of women, and the popping of corks.  A little troop of waiters had just wheeled into the room two magnificent models of yachts hewn out of blocks of solid ice and crowned with flowers.  On the one were the Stars and Stripes, on the other the Shamrock and Thistle.  There was much clapping of hands and cheering.  Lady Carey, who was sitting at the next table with her back to them, joined in the applause so heartily that a tiny gold pencil attached to her bracelet became detached and rolled unobserved to Mr. Sabin’s side.  Felix half rose to pick it up, but was suddenly checked by a quick gesture from his companion.

“Leave it,” Mr. Sabin whispered.  “I wish to return it myself.”

He stooped and picked it up, a certain stealthiness apparent in his movement.  Felix watched him in amazement.

“It is Lady Carey’s, is it not?” he asked.

“Yes.  Be silent.  I will give it back to her presently.”

A waiter served them with coffee.  Mr. Sabin was idly sketching something on the back of his menu card.  Felix broke into a little laugh as the man retired.

“Mysterious as ever,” he remarked.

Mr. Sabin smiled quietly.  He went on with his sketch.

“I do not want,” Felix said, “to seem impatient, but you must remember that I have come all the way from Europe in response to a very urgent message.  As yet I have done nothing except form a very uncomfortable third at a luncheon and tea party, and listen to a good deal of enigmatic conversation between you and the charming Lady Carey.  This evening I made sure that I should be enlightened.  But no!  You have given me a wonderful dinner—­from you I expected it.  We have eaten terrapin, canvas-back duck, and many other things the names of which alone were known to me.  But of the reason for which you have summoned me here—­I know nothing.  Not one word have you spoken.  I am beginning to fear from your avoidance of the subject that there is some trouble between you and Lucille.  I beg that you will set my anxiety at rest.”

Mr. Sabin nodded.

“It is reasonable,” he said.  “Look here!”

He turned the menu card round.  On the back he had sketched some sort of a device with the pencil which he had picked up, and which instead of black-lead contained a peculiar shade of yellow crayon.  Felix sat as though turned to stone.