he watched the man who had been sitting only a few tables away from
them push back the plate on which lay his bill and rise to his feet. One
of the chief maitres d'hotel handed him his straw hat and cane, two
waiters stood behind his chair, the manager hurried forward to see that
the way was clear for him. Yet there was nothing about the appearance of
the man himself which seemed to suggest his demanding any of these things.
He was of little over medium height, broad-shouldered, but with a body
somewhat loosely built. He wore quiet grey clothes with a black tie, a
pearl pin, and a neat coloured shirt. His complexion was a little pale,
his features well-defined, his eyes dark and penetrating but hidden
underneath rather bushy eyebrows. His deportment was quite unassuming, and
he left the place as though entirely ignorant of the impression he
created. The little cluster of chorus girls looked at him almost with awe.
Only one of them ventured to laugh into his face as though anxious to
attract his notice. Another dropped her veil significantly as he drew
near. The millionaire seemed to become a smaller man as he glanced over
his shoulder. The lady who had been recently divorced bent over her plate.
A group of noisy young fellows talking together about a Stock Exchange
deal, suddenly ceased their clamour of voices as he passed. A man sitting
alone, with a drawn face, deliberately concealed himself behind a
newspaper, and an aldermanic-looking gentleman who was entertaining a
fluffy-haired young lady from a well-known typewriting office, looked for
a moment like an errant school-boy. Not one of these people did Sanford
Quest seem to see. He passed out to the elevator, tipped the man who
sycophantly took him the whole of the way down without a stop, walked
through the crowded hall of the hotel and entered a closed motor-car
without having exchanged greetings with a soul. Yet there was scarcely a
person there who could feel absolutely sure that he had not been noticed.

* * * * *

Sanford Quest descended, about ten minutes later, before a large and
gloomy-looking house in Georgia Square. The neighbourhood was, in its way,
unique. The roar and hubbub of the city broke like a restless sea only a
block or so away. On every side, this square of dark, silent houses seemed
to be assailed by the clamour of the encroaching city. For some reason or
other, however, it remained a little oasis of old-fashione