Now and then the conversation at the table would become general, and Montague noticed that it was always Ryder who led.  His flashes of wit shot back and forth across the table; and those who matched themselves against him seldom failed to come off the worse.  It was an unscrupulous kind of wit, dazzling and dangerous.  Ryder was the type of man one met now and then in Society, who had adopted radical ideas for the sake of being distinguished.  It was a fine thing for a man who had made a brilliant success in a certain social environment to shatter in his conversation all the ideals and conventions of that environment, and thus to reveal how little he really cared for the success which he had won.

It was very entertaining at a dinner-party; but Montague thought to himself with a smile how far was Stanley Ryder from the type of person one imagined as the head of an enormous and flourishing bank.  When they had adjourned to the drawing-room, he capped the climax of the incongruity by going to the piano and playing a movement from some terrible Russian suite.

Afterwards Montague saw him stroll off to the conservatory with Lucy Dupree.  There were two people too many for bridge, and that was a good excuse; but none the less Montague felt restless during the hours that he sat at table and let Mrs. Billy win his money.

After the ordeal was over and the party had broken up, he found his friend sitting by the side of the fountain in Mrs. Billy’s conservatory, gazing fixedly in front of her, while Ryder at her side was talking.

“You met an interesting man,” he said, when they had got settled in the carriage.

“One of the most extraordinary men I ever met,” said Lucy, quickly.  “I wish that you would tell me about him.  Do you know him well?”

“I have heard him talk some, and I know him in a business way.”

“Is he so very rich?” she asked.

“He has a few millions,” said he.  “And I suppose he is turning them over very rapidly.  People say that he is a daring speculator.”

“A speculator!” exclaimed Lucy.  “Why, I thought that he was the president of a bank!”

“When you have been in New York awhile,” said Montague, with a smile, “you will realise that there is nothing incompatible in the two.”

Lucy was silent, a little staggered at the remark.  “I am told,” Montague added, with a smile, “that even Ryder’s wife won’t keep her money in the Gotham Trust.”

Montague had not anticipated the effect of this remark.  Lucy gave a sudden start.  “His wife!” she exclaimed.

“Why, yes,” said Montague.  “Didn’t you know that he was married?”

“No,” said Lucy, in a low voice.  “I did not.”

There was a long silence.  Finally she asked, “Why was not his wife invited to the dinner?”

“They seldom go out together,” said Montague.

“Have they separated?” she asked.

“There is a new and fashionable kind of separation,” was the answer.  “They live in opposite sides of a large mansion, and meet on formal occasions.”