ing. 'And now isn't it
odd? I have a funny kind of feeling that the right address is Hamilton
House.'

'I suppose you're perfectly certain they don't live at a private idiot
asylum?' Edith suggested doubtfully.

On inquiry it appeared the Mitchells did not live at Hamilton Gardens.
An idea occurred to Edith, and she asked for a directory.

The Winthrop Mitchells lived at Hamilton Terrace, St John's Wood.

'At last!' said Bruce. 'Now we shall be too disgracefully late for the
first time. But be perfectly at your ease, dear. Promise me that. Go in
quite naturally.'

'How else can I go in?'

'I mean as if nothing had happened.'

'I think we'd better tell them what _has_ happened,' said Edith; 'it
will make them laugh. I hope they will have begun their dinner.'

'Surely they will have finished it.'

'Perhaps we may find them at their games!'

'Now, now, don't be bitter, Edith dear--never be bitter--life has its
ups and downs.... Well! I'm rather glad, after all, that Mitchell
doesn't live in that horrid little hole.'

'I'm sure you are,' said Edith; 'it could be no possible satisfaction
to you to know that a friend and colleague of yours is either
distressingly hard up or painfully penurious.'

They arrived at the house, but there were no lights, and no sign of
life. The Mitchells lived here all right, but they were out. The
parlourmaid explained. The dinner-party had been Saturday, the night
before....

'Strange,' said Bruce, as he got in again. 'I had a curious
presentiment that something was going wrong about this dinner at the
Mitchells'.'

'What dinner at the Mitchells'? There doesn't seem to be any.'

'Do you know,' Bruce continued his train of thought, 'I felt certain
somehow that it would be a failure. Wasn't it odd? I often think I'm a
pessimist, and yet look how well I'm taking it. I'm more like a
fatalist--sometimes I hardly know what I am.'

'I could tell you what you are,' said Edith, 'but I won't, because now
you must take me to the Carlton. We shall get there before it's
closed.'

CHAPTER II

Opera Glasses

Whether to behave with some coolness to Mitchell, and be stand-offish,
as though it had been all his fault, or to be lavishly apologetic, was
the question. Bruce could not make up his mind which attitude to take.
In a way, it was all the Mitchells' fault. They oughtn't to have given
him a verbal invitation. It was rude, Bohemian, wanting in good form;
it showed an absolute an