Beryl, glancing across at her father and Steppe, saw that the doctor was talking earnestly. She caught Steppe's gaze and looked back to Sir John.
"I have been fighting a case for him—rather a hopeless proposition, but we won. The jury was wrong, I think, in giving us a verdict. I can say this because the other side have entered an appeal which is certain to succeed."
Jan Steppe must have heard the last sentence.
"Huh? Succeed? Yes, perhaps—it doesn't matter very much. I had a verdict, a disqualified winner is still a moral winner, huh, doctor? You used to be a racing man, what do you think?"
Dinner was announced whilst the doctor was disclaiming any knowledge of the turf or its laws. The dinner was exquisite in its selection and brevity. Mr. Steppe had one special course which none of the others shared. He invited them and showed no regret when they refused. A footman brought a silver dish piled high with steaming mealy cobs. He took them in his hands and gnawed at the hot corn. It was probably the only way that mealies could be eaten, she told herself—no more inelegant an exhibition than the sword-swallowing man[oe]uvre which followed the serving of asparagus.
"Sault?" Mr. Steppe was wiping his fingers on his serviette. "You asked me once before, Beryl—where was it? In the park. No, I haven't seen him. I very seldom do. Strange man, huh?"
The butler had attended more frequently to Dr. Merville's wine glass than to any other of the guests. His gloom had disappeared and he was more like the cheerful man Beryl remembered.
"Sault is a danger and a menace to society," he said.
Steppe's brows lowered but he did not interrupt.
"At the same time he can exercise one of the most beneficent forces that nature has ever given into the care of a human being."