al, came Mr. Falconer.

At sight of Stafford, Mr. Griffenberg turned from the man to whom he
was talking and exclaimed, gleefully:

"Here is Mr. Orme! You have herd the good news, I suppose, Mr. Orme?
Splendid isn't it? Wonderful man, you father, truly wonderful! He can
give us all points, can't he, baron?" The baron nodded and smiled.

"Shir Stephen ish a goot man of pishness. You have a very glever fader,
Mr. Orme!" he said, emphatically.

Efford caught Stafford's arm as he was passing on with a mechanical
smile and an inclination of the head.

"We've come in for a drink, Orme," he said. "We're going to drink luck
to the biggest thing Sir Stephen has ever done; you'll join us? Oh,
come, we can't take a refusal! Dash it all! You're in the swim, Orme,
if you haven't taken any active part in it."

Stafford glanced at Mr. Falconer, and noticed a grim smile pass over
his face. If these exultant and flushed money-spinners only guessed how
active a part he had taken, how amazed they would be! A wave of
bitterness swept over him. At such a moment men, especially young men,
become reckless; the strain is too great, and they fly to the nearest
thing for relief.

He turned back to the buffet, and the butler and the couple of footmen
opened several bottles of champagne--none of the men knew or cared how
many; several others of the financial group joined the party; the wine
went round rapidly; they were all talking and laughing except Stafford,
who remained silent and grave and moody for some little time; then he
too began to talk and laugh with the others, and his face grew flushed
and his manner excited.

Falconer, who stood a little apart, apparently drinking with the
others, but really with care and moderation, watched him under
half-lowered lids; and presently he moved round to where Stafford leant
against the table with his champagne-glass in his hand, and touching
him on the arm, said:

"I hear them enquiring for you in the ball-room, Stafford."

It was the first time he had called Stafford by his Christian name, and
it struck home, as Falconer had intended it should. Stafford set his
glass down and looked round as a man does when the wine is creeping up
to his head, and he is startled by an unexpected voice.

"All right--thanks!" he said.

He made his way through the group, who were too engrossed and excited
to notice his desertion and went into the ball-room. As he did so, his
father entered by an opposite