was no cockade on his polished hat.
No turnout could have been simpler and yet none could have looked more
overpoweringly smart.

Lushington suddenly turned on his heel and walked off in the opposite
direction, as if he were not pleased, but he had not gone fifty yards
when he heard the brougham behind him, and in a few seconds it passed
him at a sharp pace. He caught sight of the elderly man inside--a
tremendous profile over a huge fair beard that was half grey, one large
and rather watery blue eye behind a single eyeglass with a broad black
ribbon, a gardenia in the button-hole of a smart grey coat, a cloud of
cigarette smoke, one very large and aristocratic hand, with a plain
gold ring, holding the cigarette and resting on the edge of the window.
He smelt the smoke after the brougham had passed, and he recognised the
fact that it was superlatively fragrant.

He turned back again in a few moments and saw that three men were just
coming out of Madame Bonanni s house. One was Schreiermeyer, whom he
knew, and one looked like a poor musician. The third was the Minister
of Fine Arts, whom he did not know but recognised. The Minister and the
pianist walked one on each side of Schreiermeyer, and were talking
excitedly, but the manager looked at neither of them and never turned
his head. They went down the Avenue Hoche away from Lushington, who
walked very slowly and looked at his watch twice before he reached
Madame Bonanni's door. There he stopped, rang and was admitted without
question, as if he were in the habit of coming and going as he pleased.
He apparently took it for granted that the prima donna must be alone
and already at her late breakfast, but he was stopped by the smiling
servant who came out of the dining-room, arrayed as usual in a frock
coat and a white satin tie.

'I will inform Madame,' he said.

'Is there any one there?' asked Lushington, evidently not pleased.

The servant shrugged his shoulders in a deprecatory way, and his smile
became rather compassionate.

'One young person to breakfast,' he said, 'a musician'.

'Oh, very well.' Lushington's brow cleared.

The servant left him and went in again. A screen was so placed as to
mask the interior of the dining-room when the door was open. Within,
Madame Bonanni and Margaret were seated at table. Encouraged by
circumstances the prima donna had on this occasion tied her napkin
round her neck as soon as she had sat down; the inevitable plovers'
eggs