-humoured, and wearing that
half-shy, half-inane smile, which just now seemed to irritate her every
nerve.

"Er . . . your chair is outside . . . m'dear," he said, with his most
exasperating drawl, "I suppose you will want to go to that demmed ball.
. . . Excuse me--er--Monsieur Chauvelin--I had not observed you. . . ."

He extended two slender, white fingers toward Chauvelin, who had risen
when Sir Percy entered the box.

"Are you coming, m'dear?"

"Hush! Sh! Sh!" came in angry remonstrance from different parts of
the house. "Demmed impudence," commented Sir Percy with a good-natured
smile.

Marguerite sighed impatiently. Her last hope seemed suddenly to have
vanished away. She wrapped her cloak round her and without looking at
her husband:

"I am ready to go," she said, taking his arm. At the door of the box
she turned and looked straight at Chauvelin, who, with his CHAPEAU-BRAS
under his arm, and a curious smile round his thin lips, was preparing to
follow the strangely ill-assorted couple.

"It is only AU REVOIR, Chauvelin," she said pleasantly, "we shall meet
at my Lord Grenville's ball, anon."

And in her eyes the astute Frenchman, read, no doubt, something which
caused him profound satisfaction, for, with a sarcastic smile, he took
a delicate pinch of snuff, then, having dusted his dainty lace jabot, he
rubbed his thin, bony hands contentedly together.

CHAPTER XI LORD GRENVILLE'S BALL

The historic ball given by the then Secretary of State for Foreign
Affairs--Lord Grenville--was the most brilliant function of the year.
Though the autumn season had only just begun, everybody who was anybody
had contrived to be in London in time to be present there, and to shine
at this ball, to the best of his or her respective ability.

His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales had promised to be present.
He was coming on presently from the opera. Lord Grenville himself had
listened to the two first acts of ORPHEUS, before preparing to receive
his guests. At ten o'clock--an unusually late hour in those days--the
grand rooms of the Foreign Office, exquisitely decorated with exotic
palms and flowers, were filled to overflowing. One room had been set
apart for dancing, and the dainty strains of the minuet made a soft
accompaniment to the gay chatter, the merry laughter of the numerous and
brilliant company.

In a smaller chamber, facing the top of the fine stairway, the
distinguished host stood ready to rece