"So he has come back," said he. I followed the direction of his gaze, and looked across the theatre. The Countess Lukstein and Mademoiselle Durette had just entered one of the lower boxes; behind them in the shadow was the figure of a man.
"Who is it?" I asked.
"An acquaintance of yours."
The man came forward as Elmscott spoke to the front of the box, and seated himself by the side of Ilga. He was young, with a white face and very deep-set eyes, and though his appearance was in some measure familiar to me, I could neither remember his name nor the occasion of our meeting.
"You have forgotten that night at the H. P.?" asked Elmscott.
In a flash I recollected.
"It is Marston," I said, and then after a pause: "And he knows the Countess!"
"As well as you do; maybe better."
"Then how comes it I have never seen him with her before?"
"He left London conveniently before you came hither. We all thought that he had received his dismissal. It rather looks as if we were out of our reckoning, eh?"