and talked in undertones, every now
and then glancing up the stairs down which Sir Stephen would presently
descend. Most of the other guests, though they had no direct and
personal interest in the great scheme, more or less had heard rumours
and come within reflective radius of the excitement; as for the rest,
who knew nothing or cared less for Sir Stephen's railway, they were in
a pleasant condition of excitement over the coming dance.

Stafford, as he stood in the hall talking about the night's programme
to Bertie--who had been elected, by common and tacit consent, master of
the ceremonies--saw Maude Falconer descending the stairs. She was even
more exquisitely dressed than usual; and Stafford heard some of the
women and men murmur admiringly and enviously as she swept across the
hall in her magnificent ball-dress; her diamonds, for which she was
famous, glittering in her hair, on her white throat, and on her slender
wrists. The dress was a mixture of grey and black, which would have
looked _bizarre_ on anyone else less beautiful; but its strange tints
harmonised with her superb and classic class of beauty, and she looked
like a vision of loveliness which might well dazzle the eyes of the
beholders.

She paused in her progress--it might almost be called a triumphant one,
for the other women's looks were eloquent of dismay--and looked at
Stafford with the slow, half-dreamy smile which had come into her face
of late when she spoke to him.

"Have you seen my father? Has he come down, Mr. Orme?" she asked.

"No," said Stafford. He looked at her, as a man does when he admires a
woman's dress, and forgetting Howard's words of warning, said: "What a
splendacious frock, Miss Falconer!"

"Do you like it? I am glad," she said. "I had my doubts, but now--"

Her eyes rested on his for a moment, then she passed on.

"I shouldn't like to have to pay Miss Falconer's dress bill," remarked
a young married woman, looking after her. "That 'frock' as you call it,
in your masculine ignorance, must have cost a small fortune."

Stafford laughed.

"We men always put our foot in it when we talk about a woman's dress,"
he said.

A moment after, the dinner was announced, and Sir Stephen, who had come
down at the last moment, as he went up to take in Lady Clansford,
nodded to Stafford, and smiled significantly. He was as carefully
dressed as usual, but on his face, and in his eyes particularly, was an
expression of satisfaction and