A sudden seriousness fell upon them. Detchmore glanced at Semingham, and thence, curiously, at Willie Ruston, whose face was pale and marked with a deep-lined frown. Mrs. Dennison had sunk back in her chair, and her heart rose and fell in agitated breathings. Then Willie Ruston spoke in cool deliberate tones.
"The King there was a Queen," he said. "You've drunk to the wrong person, Semingham. I'll drink it right," and, bowing to Maggie Dennison, he drained his glass. Looking up, he found Detchmore's eyes on him in overpowering wonder.
"If I tell you a story, Lord Detchmore," said he, "you'll understand," and, yielding his place by Maggie Dennison, he took Detchmore with him, and they walked away in talk.
It was an hour later when Lord Detchmore took leave of his host.
"Well, did you hear the story?" asked Semingham.
"Yes; I heard it," said Detchmore, "about the telegram, wasn't it?"
"Yes, and of course, you see, it explains the toast."
"That sounds like a question, Semingham."
"Oh, no. The note of interrogation was—a printer's error."
"It's a remarkable story."