CHAPTER XXX
Fischer had by no means the appearance of a discomfited man that evening, when some time later Pamela and Lutchester approached the little group of which he seemed, somehow, to have become the central figure. It was a small party, but, in its way, a distinguished one. Pamela's aunt was a member of an historic American family, and a woman of great social position, not only in New York but in Washington itself. Of the remaining guests, one was a financial magnate of world-wide fame, and the other, Senator Joyce, a politician of such eminence that his name was freely mentioned as a possible future president. Mrs. Hastings greeted Pamela and her escort without enthusiasm.
"My dear child," she exclaimed, "how extraordinary to find you here!"
"Is it?" Pamela observed indifferently. "You know Mr. Lutchester, don't you, aunt?"
Mrs. Hastings remembered her late dinner guest, but her recognition was icy and barely polite. She turned away at once and resumed her conversation with Fischer. Lutchester was not introduced to either of the other members of the party. He laid his hand on the back of an empty chair and turned it round for Pamela, but she stopped him with a word of thanks. Something had gone from her own naturally pleasant tone. She held her hand higher, even, than her aunt's, as she turned a little insistently towards her.
"So sorry, aunt," she announced, "but we are going now. Good night!"
Mrs. Hastings disapproved.
"We have seen nothing of you yet, Pamela," she said stiffly. "You had better stay with us and we will drop you on our way home."
Pamela shook her head.
"I am coming with you to-morrow, you know," she reminded her aunt.
"To-night I am Mr. Lutchester's guest and he will see me home."