hed.

"Are we really to dance?" she murmured. "Do you want to make a girl of
me again?"

"Well, I shouldn't be a magician, should I?" he answered.

They passed into the ballroom and danced for some time. The music was
seductive and perfect, without any of the blatant notes of too many of
the popular orchestras. The floor seemed to sway under their feet.

"This is a new joy come back into life!" Margaret exclaimed, as they
rested for a moment.

"The first of many," he assured her.

They stood in the archway between the winter-garden and the
dancing-gallery, from which they could command a view of the passing
crowds. Francis scanned the faces of the men and women with intense
interest. Many of them were known to him by sight, others were
strangers. There was a judge, a Cabinet Minister, various members of the
aristocracy, a sprinkling from the foreign legations, and although the
stage was not largely represented, there were one or two well-known
actors. The guests seemed to belong to no universal social order, but to
Francis, watching them almost eagerly, they all seemed to have something
of the same expression, the same slight air of weariness, of restless
and unsatisfied desires.

"I can't believe that the place is real, or that these people we see are
not supers," Margaret whispered.

"I feel every moment that a clock will strike and that it will all fade
away."

"I'm afraid I'm too material for such imaginings," Francis replied, "but
there is a quaintly artificial air about it all. We must go and look for
Wilmore and Lady Cynthia."

They turned back into the enervating atmosphere of the winter-garden,
and came suddenly face to face with Sir Timothy, who had escorted a
little party of his guests to see the fountain, and was now returning
alone.

"You have been dancing, I am glad to see," the latter observed. "I trust
that you are amusing yourselves?"

"Excellently, thank you," Francis replied.

"And so far," Sir Timothy went on, with a faint smile, "you find my
entertainment normal? You have no question yet which you would like to
ask?"

"Only one--what do you do with your launch up the river on moonless
nights, Sir Timothy?"

Sir Timothy's momentary silence was full of ominous significance.

"Mr. Ledsam," he said, after a brief pause, "I have given you almost
carte blanche to explore my domains here. Concerning the launch,
however, I think that you had better ask no questions at present."

"You