He had managed purposely to arrive at the house rather late, and already the parlors were thronged with guests, for hers was one of the most popular houses in the capital—not alone because of the beauty of the hostess, but because of the entertainment one found there, and the people one met there.
As Nick halted he drew backward a little, screening himself for a moment behind other persons who were only too eager to crowd ahead of him, for he wished to study the scene for a time before he thrust himself directly into it.
He saw her at the far end of the room, the centre of a throng that had gathered around her chair; for she sat like an enthroned queen, upon a raised dais, the better to receive her guests—and the moment had not yet come for her to leave it and to mingle with them.
The admiration that was given to her was not stinted; and it was due, moreover, for the detective confessed to himself then and there that never had he seen a more beautiful human creature.
Brightness, vivacity, wit—every attribute that goes to adorn beauty and make it a compelling factor were hers.
Statesmen, professional men, persons of prominence in every walk of life were grouped around her, each vying with all the others to do homage to her charms.
Such was the scene upon which Nick Carter gazed as he paused just inside the doorway and studied the environment.
“A wonderful woman, truly,” he told himself, with just the suggestion of a shrug, and he withdrew still farther into the background, waiting for a better opportunity to present himself.