To my mind Beachington has never been the same since the incident of the Princess Margaretta.
IX
[THE END OF HIS HOLIDAY]
I
"That's a fine girl!"
The lady thus tersely referred to by Mr Harry Davison was followed into the room by a gentleman who was as noticeable as herself. As they searched for a vacant seat they were attended by the glances of the breakfasters. Chance had it that they found an unoccupied table which was close to that at which Mr Davison was seated. Mr Lintorn finished his breakfast, eating it steadily through, while Mr Davison, eating nothing, stared at the lady. Having discussed the meal, Mr Lintorn, fitting his eyeglass into its place, eyed the new-comers.
"I thought so."
"Thought what?"
Mr Lintorn paused before replying. He rose from his chair. An odd smile was on his face.
"They're some people I knew in the Riviera."