A Distinguished Dinner-Party.
It was a chill November night; but there was no coldness inside the South Bank Cottage—the one occupied by Mr Richard Swinton.
There was company in it.
There had been a dinner-party, of nine covers. The dinner was eaten; and the diners had returned to the drawing-room.
The odd number of nine precluded an exact pairing of the sexes. The ladies out-counted the gentlemen, by five to four.
Four of them are already known to the reader. They were Mrs Swinton, Mrs Girdwood, her daughter and niece. The fifth was a stranger, not only to the reader, but to Mrs Girdwood and her girls.
Three of the gentlemen were the host himself Mr Louis Lucas, and his friend Mr Spiller. The fourth, like the odd lady, was a stranger.
He did not appear strange to Mrs Swinton; who during the dinner had treated him with remarkable familiarity, calling him her “dear Gustave”; while he in turn let the company know she was his wife!
He spoke with a French accent, and by Swinton was styled “the count.”
The strange lady appeared to know him—also in a familiar way. She was the Honourable Miss Courtney—Geraldine Courtney.