Carling and Victor crossed looks that were questions carrying their answers.
Nataly’s eyes followed Victor’s. ‘Who is the man?’ she said; and she got no reply beyond a perky sparkle in his gaze.
Others were noticing the man, who was trying to pass by Skepsey, now on his right side, now on his left.
‘There’ll be no stopping him,’ Carling said, and he slipped to the rear.’
At this juncture, Armandine’s mellow bell proclaimed her readiness.
Victor rubbed the back of his head. Nataly asked him: ‘Dear, is it that man?’
He nodded scantly: ‘Expected, expected. I think we have our summons from Armandine. One moment—poor soul! poor soul! Lady Carmine—Sir Abraham Quatley. Will you lead? Lady Blachington, I secure you. One moment.’
He directed Nataly to pair a few of the guests; he hurried down the slope of sward.
Nataly applied to Colney Durance. ‘Do you know the man?—is it that man?’
Colney rejoined: ‘The man’s name is Jarniman.’