One evening Frederick called toward 10 o'clock at the mansion in Park lane, and was ushered by the groom of the chambers into the drawing-room. The ladies had not yet left the dining-room, and he sat down on an ottoman to wait for them, taking up an album to while away the time.
As he was idly turning over the leaves he suddenly uttered an exclamation of surprise as he caught sight of a portrait of his old enemy, Capt. Clery.
“By Jove, this is unfortunate,” muttered he. “I hope the man is not in London, for if he is we may meet any day here and I shall be in a fine hole.”
He was so absorbed in the contemplation of the pictures that he did not hear the door open. A tall, soldierly figure entered the room and walked slowly toward where Frederick was sitting. As he laid his opera hat down on the table Frederick looked up, and could not help starting to his feet as he saw the original of the picture standing before him.
Frederick's first thought was to effect his escape without delay. But while he hesitated for a moment as to the means of doing so without attracting Captain Clery's attention, the drawing-room doors were thrown open, and Lady Kingsbury, followed by her daughters and two other ladies in full evening dress, entered the room. Baffled in his purpose, Frederick now determined to put the best face on the matter that he could. Of one thing he was certain, namely, that there had been no gleam of recognition in Clery's eye when the latter had cursorily glanced at him on entering. The drawing-rooms were but dimly lighted by several shaded lamps, and the great change which had taken place in Frederick's appearance during the years which had elapsed since he left India encouraged him to hope that he might possibly escape detection, even on closer inspection. He therefore advanced toward the lady of the house, and, bowing low, kissed her outstretched hand with the graceful and never-failing courtesy that was habitual to him in his relations with the fair sex.
“How are you, my dear count? so glad to see you!” exclaimed the marchioness; then, as she caught sight of Captain Clery, who had meanwhile approached, she added: “Why, Charlie, is that you? I did not know you were back in town. Let me introduce you to the Comte de Vaugelade, a new but already very dear friend of ours.”
The two men bowed to each other, and Frederick began to feel more sure of his ground as Clery gave no token of ever having met him before.
The conversation soon became general, and Frederick, always a brilliant talker, surpassed himself that evening and kept them all interested and amused by his witty sallies and repartees until a late hour.
He noticed that on two or three occasions the colonel—for such Clery had now become—fixed his piercing blue eyes somewhat inquiringly on him, as if trying to place him. It was evident that he was rather puzzled.
At midnight they left the house together and strolled toward Piccadilly, chatting rather pleasantly on various topics. As they were about to take leave of each other, Colonel Clery suddenly exclaimed: