"Sir Timothy has
only one way with intruders. He was thrown into the river and
jolly nearly drowned."
The two men passed out of hearing.
"I wonder what part the launch plays in the night's
entertainment," Wilmore observed.
Francis shrugged his shoulders.
"I have given up wondering," he said. "Margaret, do you hear
that music?"
She laughed.
"Are we really to dance?" she murmured. "Do you want to make a
girl of me again?"
"Well, I shouldn't be a magician, should I?" he answered.
They passed into the ballroom and danced for some time. The
music was seductive and perfect, without any of the blatant notes
of too many of the popular orchestras. The floor seemed to sway
under their feet.
"This is a new joy come back into life!" Margaret exclaimed, as
they rested for a moment.
"The first of many," he assured her.
They stood in the archway between the winter-garden and the
dancing-gallery, from which they could command a view of the
passing crowds. Francis scanned the faces of the men and women
with intense interest. Many of them were known to him by sight,
others were strangers. There was a judge, a Cabinet Minister,
various members of the aristocracy, a sprinkling from the foreign
legations, and although the stage was not largely represented,
there were one or two well-known actors.
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