though of their own accord
towards the spirit-case. Then he began somewhat inconsequentially:

"Dad, what do you think that girl's name is?"

"Naturally, I haven't the remotest notion," replied his father. "I only
know that she is exceedingly good looking, and I must say that from the
glimpse I had of her, she seems very like yourself."

"Is that what you meant, dad, when you said, 'Bless my soul what a
likeness,' or something like that when the cab stopped?"

Sir Arthur did not reply at once. His eyes were gazing vacantly up at a
wreath of blue smoke from his cigar, then he replied suddenly:

"Eh? Oh, well, probably. You see, my boy, I was just a bit startled at
seeing you get out, and when I saw your two faces in the lamplight, I
confess that I was decidedly struck by the likeness."

Vane did not find this reply entirely convincing, for he remembered that
as he got out of the cab his back was towards his father, and that
Carol's face was no longer visible when he turned round and faced him.
Still, he was far too well bred to put his father through anything like
a cross-examination, and so he went on.

"Well, as I told you, I met this young lady--for although she is what
respectable Society in its mercy call 'an unfortunate'--I am certain she
_is_ a lady--at the Palace, and we went and had supper in the Grill Room
at the Trocadero, and there, as we had no one to introduce us, we
introduced ourselves."

"The usual thing under such circumstances, I believe," said Sir Arthur,
taking a sip at his whiskey. "Well?"

"I told her that my name was Vane Maxwell, and she said, 'Now that's
curious, my name's Vane, too.'"

"What is that--her name!" said Sir Arthur with a start that nearly made
him drop his glass. "Vane is not a girl's name."

"No, that's her surname. Her whole name is Carol Vane. Pretty, isn't it?
Vane, she says, was her mother's name, and a nice sort of person she
seems to have been. Poor Carol herself must have had a terrible time of
it. There was no possibility of doubting a word of her story, she told
it all so simply and so naturally, and yet it was tragedy all through.

"Well, we'd had a large bottle of fizz and a small one between us, and
I'm afraid I was getting a bit on, for I wanted another. I wasn't drunk,
you know, or anything like it. It didn't seem as though I could get
drunk; only more and more gorgeously happy, and when I told Miss Carol,
she put her elbows on the table and stared into