At a large one in an alcove scarce ten feet away seven persons were seated. They included Senator Barclay and his daughter Estella, a handsome brunette in the twenties, who with her father appeared to be entertaining the others.
A well-built, distinguished-looking man, attractive aside from a habitual sinister squint, was seated next to Miss[{21}] Barclay. He was close upon fifty and his hair was streaked with gray. There was a bruise on his brow, partly hidden by a treatment of paint and powder. He was the victim of the recent assault by unknown thugs—Captain Casper Dillon.
Next to him sat a massive, powerful man, with a large head and a profuse growth of tawny hair and beard, giving him a leonine aspect. Obviously, he was a foreigner, as was a corpulent, showily dressed woman seated opposite.
Another was the government engineer, Garland, looking drawn and white, in spite of his efforts to appear congenial; while next to him was seated a slender, graceful woman of almost dazzling beauty and brilliancy, her sinuous figure ravishingly clad and her abundance of auburn hair fairly ablaze with costly gems.
“H’m, just so,” thought Nick, furtively gazing. “Verona Warren, eh? Wonderful eyes, an irresistible smile, a mouth like a rosebud, and a matchless complexion—but not all her own. She is a skillful woman who, at thirty-five, can strip off enough years to appear like a debutante. Lost his head to Madame Irma Valaska, eh? I thought I might be right—and now I know it.”
Ten minutes passed.
None of the group in the alcove had an eye for the solitary man seated near one of the windows, apparently absorbed in his wine and lunch. Only one among them would have recognized him. Not Garland, however, for Garland had seen him only in disguise that afternoon.
Nick could occasionally catch a few words uttered more vivaciously than others, but none were of special significance. He saw Stella Barclay frowning at times upon Garland, however, and finally heard her inquire:
“What on earth, Harry, has come over you? You’re as dumb as an oyster, and dreadfully white.”
“Pardon!” Garland exclaimed, brightening quickly. “I did not realize it, Miss Barclay.”