d, as he sat with Miss Wycliffe and
the Parrs in a corner, listening to the music that floated in from the
room beyond, and viewing the scene through the smoke of his cigarette.

He and Miss Wycliffe had a full view of the room, to which the Parrs
had shown their indifference by turning their backs, Mrs. Parr being
absorbed in her own excited comments upon the scene in the opera house,
while her husband was earnestly employed in the business which had
brought him to that place. In fact, he had pleasantly occupied the
major time of the President's speech in gustatory anticipations that
were now being realised to his perfect satisfaction; and if he thought
of the mayor at all, it was to reflect that Emmets could come and go
without changing the flavour of his favourite viands.

"It was fortunate," Littleford remarked, "that I telephoned over and
reserved this table, but I 'm afraid our friends have disappointed us."

He glanced uneasily at the chairs leaning one against each end of the
table, and then over the room. In all that crowd of eager talkers
there was practically but one theme of conversation, the recent scene
in the opera house, and but one verdict, praise of the committee. In
obscure saloons the same topic was bandied back and forth over bars
dripping with beer, but there the verdict went the other way. Could
all the excited comment on this subject, all the oaths and laughter,
have been collected into one volume of sound, what a mighty roar would
have ascended, shattering the far quiet of the moonlit night!

As Littleford looked across the room, three men entered the door and
began to make their way between the tables in his direction. The first
was Cobbens, his hat in the bend of his arm, as if it had rested there
continuously since his performance on the platform. He was acutely
conscious of the interest his appearance aroused, and bowed from left
to right with his nervous, expansive smile, a Gallic personality in
manner and dress. It was evident that he felt himself among friends,
and regarded his entrance as something of a triumphal progress. To him
social Warwick was the world, and its approval was commendation enough,
in spite of the President's rebuke. He by no means estimated at its
full value the hatred he had won from the masses, and to see him now, a
pleased and genial person, the fact was hard to realise. His
companions, or rather, the men who followed in his wake, were
Cardington and L