"That," said Monsieur Dupont, drawing him aside, "is where we differ. To me the atmosphere is extremely interesting. If I were a sportsman, I would make you a bet that this will be an eventful evening."
"I feel strongly," said Tranter seriously, "that we should be wise to leave. We don't want to be mixed up in an affair with a madman."
Monsieur Dupont shook his head.
"The millionaire was not mad, my friend. He may have been mad yesterday. He may be mad to-morrow. But he is very sane to-night."
"I don't like it," Tranter maintained. "I would much rather go. Events under this roof have a trick of being a little too dramatic."
Laughter from the clergyman, the financier, and the danseuse, greeted the conclusion of a story with which the theatrical manager had attempted to relieve the strain. Monsieur Dupont drew Tranter still further back.
"This Mademoiselle Manderson—do you know her?"
"No," Tranter replied. "I've never heard of her. I suppose she is some new friend of Copplestone's. If she is really engaged to him, I don't think she is altogether to be envied."
Monsieur Dupont's glance found Mrs. Astley-Rolfe.
"No," he remarked softly—"I do not think she is."