He glanced in their direction, and started perceptibly. For some moments his keen eyes followed her. Then I noticed that his grey brows contracted, and his usually expressionless face wore a strange, ominous look such as I had never before detected upon it.
“Is that your wife?” he asked huskily, turning and eyeing me curiously.
“Yes.”
“Was it she who alleged that your friend Ogle was the victim of foul play?” he inquired with emphasis, in a voice that betrayed dismay.
“It was,” I replied.
The Foreign Minister sighed. As he again turned his eyes upon the pair at that moment gliding down the room to the strains of the latest fashionable refrain his brow darkened, and his teeth were firmly set. A silence fell between us.