Beatrice waited for no more. She hurried off with her new companion until they came to a box at the back of the dress circle. Here one or two men were talking somewhat earnestly to Flower, but he dismissed them with a gesture as Beatrice came in. There were one or two shaded electric lights behind Flower's head, but subdued as they were Beatrice did not fail to notice the pallor of her uncle's face. There was a quick irritation in his manner which she had never noticed before.
"I have sent for you everywhere," he said. "Where have you been? And tell me, who was the man you were supping with? Now don't prevaricate. Tell me at once."
Beatrice's face flushed with indignation.
"There is no reason why I should not tell you," she said. "I went into supper with Mr. Mercer. He is a guest here as well as ourselves. Perhaps we stayed too long——"
Flower waived the suggestion aside impatiently.
"Oh, why do you waste my time like this?" he asked. "I don't mean Mercer at all. I want to know who was the other man who sat at the same table with you?"
Once again the old dread was closing in upon Beatrice. She glanced at her guardian with troubled eyes.
"I have never seen him before," she said. "It was no fault of mine that he sat at the same table. He came in with Miss Marcombe, the actress, who, as you know, has been a guest of ours at Maldon Grange. She introduced him as Mr. Uzali. He is not an Englishman, but I found him very entertaining, and a gentleman. Moreover, he surprised me by saying he had seen my moth brooch before. He declared he had a piece which would match the broken part and took it from his pocket. It seems almost incredible, but the match was perfect."
"You let him have it?" Flower asked hoarsely.
"What else could I do? He promised that he would return it in a day or two completely restored."