simply dressed in a tailor-made gown of white serge. Her black hat
was a miracle of smartness. Her hair was of a very light shade of
golden-brown, her complexion wonderfully fair. Lady Weybourne glanced at
her shoes and gloves, at the bag which she was carrying, and the handle
of her parasol. Then she nodded approvingly.

"You don't know her?" Richard asked, in a disappointed whisper.

She shook her head.

"Sorry," she admitted, "but I don't. They've probably only just
arrived."

With great ceremony the newcomers were conducted to the best table upon
the terrace. The man was evidently an habitue. He had scarcely taken his
seat before, with a very low bow, the sommelier brought him a small
wine-glass filled with what seemed to be vermouth. While he sipped it he
smoked a Russian cigarette and with a gold pencil wrote out the menu of
his luncheon. In a few minutes the manager himself came hurrying out
from the restaurant. His salute was almost reverential. When, after a
few moments' conversation, he departed, he did so with the air of one
taking leave of royalty. Lady Weybourne, who was an inquisitive little
person, was puzzled.

"I don't know who they are, Dick," she confessed, "but I know the ways
of this place well, and I can tell you one thing--they are people of
importance. You can tell that by the way they are received. These
restaurant people don't make mistakes."

"Of course they are people of importance," the young man declared. "Any
one can see that by a glance at the girl. I am sorry you don't know
them," he went on, "but you've got to find out who they are, and pretty
quickly, too. Look here, Flossie. I am a bit useful to you now and then,
aren't I?"

"Without you, my dear Dick," she murmured, "I should never be able to
manage those awful trustees. You are invaluable, a perfect jewel of a
brother."

"Well, I'll give you that little electric coupe you were so keen on last
time we were in London, if you'll get me an introduction to that girl
within twenty-four hours."

Lady Weybourne gasped.

"What a whirlwind!" she exclaimed. "Dicky, are you, by any chance, in
earnest?"

"In earnest for the first time in my life," he assured her. "Something
has got hold of me which I'm not going to part with."

She considered him reflectively. He was twenty-seven years of age, and
notwithstanding the boundless opportunities of his youth and great
wealth he had so far shown an almost singular indifference to the w