"I am in a strange land here," said Deering, when they had exchanged greetings, "so I claim your protection; you must be my guide, philosopher, and friend." He drew a chair forward as he spoke, and Elsie sat down. "Are you a frequent attendant of these soirées, Glynn?" he asked, after having bestowed a nod on his countryman. "You are certainly fonder of innocent amusements here than in London!"
"It appears that Paris produces the same effect upon us both," returned Glynn coolly.
"Monsieur Glynn," said Madame Davilliers, sailing up, "will you come and speak to my old friend M. Le Colonel Dubois? He is a most interesting person! He fought at Waterloo in the first year of his service, and is all the fonder of your nation because they were gallant foes."
So Glynn was carried off, to his great annoyance, just as Deering took a seat beside Elsie, and seemed to settle himself for a long talk.
M. Le Colonel Dubois did not find the most attentive listener in Glynn, and was not sorry when the host came to pay his compliments to the octogenarian, and permitted his English guest to escape. Glynn strolled into the next room, and found Miss Lambert still conversing with Deering, with an air of interest too that surprised him. He did not attempt to interrupt them, but stood watching an opportunity of begging Madame Davilliers to ask Miss Lambert for another song. From his position near the portières between the two rooms he could see the door leading to the vestibule. While he looked it opened, and Lambert came in—Lambert in a gorgeous-colored waistcoat and a bright necktie, for evening dress was not indispensable at Madame Davilliers' receptions. There was a joyous twinkle in his eye, an irrepressible air of success in his bearing. He saluted madame with much warmth, and then looked round the room as if seeking his "Jewel." Suddenly an extraordinary change passed over his face. The laughing, joyous, humorous look vanished, and was replaced by a fierce, startled, angry glare, like a wild creature suddenly roused to apprehension and defiance, as if through the thin, smooth coating of lately acquired domesticity, the savage nature of the untamed desperado had broken forth all the more vehemently for its temporary slumber. Glynn saw that his eyes were fixed on Deering, who was smiling and bending forward as he spoke to Elsie. She did not heed him, for she had caught sight of her father, and Deering, struck by her expression, turned to see what had attracted her. Then his face changed too, his jaw closed with a look of rigid determination, his steel-blue eyes lit up with a flash of angry recognition. By an involuntary impulse Glynn started forward to greet Lambert with a vague intention to assist him in recovering his self-control—to aid Elsie's father in any way he could.
"Glynn," said Lambert, gripping his hand hard, "who—who is that man—sitting there—by my—daughter?"
"He is Deering of Denham. Do you object to him?"
"No, why should I? Only I knew a Deering once—not a clean potato by any means! This may not be the same—Ah, Elsie, my child! Come here, keep by me."
"What is the matter, dear? You are not like yourself," she exclaimed, as she came up and passed her arm through his.
"Not like myself! you are wrong there." Then with a sort of effort he went straight up to Deering and said audibly in English, "We have met before, sir, have we not?"