"I hope you are not going to take Miss Falconer away, sir?" said
Stafford.
Ralph Falconer shook his head, and, avoiding his daughter's eye, said:
"Sir Stephen wants to see you in the library, Mr. Orme, and wishes me to accompany you."
"Certainly, if Miss Falconer will excuse me."
He rose, and he fancied her hand trembled slightly as it rested almost as lightly as a feather on his arm.
"I'll take you to Lady Clansford—"
"There is no need: here is my next partner," she said, as the "beautiful, bountiful Bertie" came up smiling and buoyant.
"Anything the matter, sir?" asked Stafford, as he and Falconer made their way round the room through which was floating the last thing in waltzes, a soft and sensuous melody which sang the soul to rest.
"I think not. A matter of business, I think," said Ralph Falconer. "His secretary, Mr. Murray, has just come from London: it may be something to do with the papers he had brought."
Stafford nodded, though the explanation seemed unsatisfactory: for what concern had Stafford with the "papers"? As they went through the hall they saw the financiers clustered together with an expectant air, as if they were waiting for the result of the arrival of the man by the special train; and they stared at Falconer and exchanged glances as he and Stafford passed them and went to the library door.