Our journalist turned round in a flash. Ah, this time he would find out who the mysterious unknown was—the unknown, who wished to influence by word written and word spoken, the course of these investigations he had taken in hand:
Anonymous friend?
Concealed adversary?
He must, at all costs, clear up the mystery.
A dozen people were crowding round Fandor, insisting on being attended to in the cloak-room.
No one noticed the journalist....
No one seemed interested in what he was doing....
Fandor examined every one of Thomery's guests who were standing about him. He knew some of them by name, some he knew by sight. He searched their faces with penetrating eyes; but, in vain.... Some were common-place looking, others calm, others impenetrable:
"Hang it all," he grumbled. He went off furious and upset.