ed in my
expectation of drama.

He came out from under the staircase through the red baize door which
discreetly warned the stranger that beyond this danger signal lay the
sacred mysteries of the Hall's service. And he came down to the central
cluster of faintly irritated Sturtons and Jervaises, with an evident
hesitation that marked the gravity of his message. Every one was watching
that group under the electric-lighted chandelier--it was posed to hold the
stage--but I fancy that most of the audience were solely interested in
getting rid of the unhappy Sturtons.

We could not hear what John said, but we inferred the general nature of
the disaster from the response accorded to his news. The vicar merely
clicked his tongue with a frown of grave disapproval, but his wife
advertised the disaster for us by saying,--

"It's that man Carter, from the Oak, you know; not our own man. I've never
liked Carter."

"Quite hopelessly, eh?" Jervaise asked John, and John's perturbed shake of
the head answered that question beyond any doubt.

"In any case," Mrs. Sturton began, and I hazarded a guess that she was
going to refuse to drive behind Carter in any stage of intoxication; but
she decided to abandon that line and went on with a splendid imitation of
cheerfulness, "However, there's nothing to be done, now, but walk. It's
quite a fine night, fortunately." She looked at her husband for approval.

"Oh! quite, quite," he said. "A beautiful night. Let us walk by all
means."

A general rustle of relief spread up the gallery of the staircase, and was
followed at once by a fresh outburst of chatter. The waiting audience of
would-be dancers had responded like one individual. It was as if their
single over-soul had sighed its thankfulness and had then tried to cover
the solecism. Their relief was short-lived. Mrs. Jervaise "couldn't think"
of the Sturtons walking. They must have the motor. She insisted. Really
nothing at all. Their chauffeur was sure to be up, still.

"Of course, certainly, by all means," Jervaise agreed warmly, and then, to
John, "He hasn't gone to bed yet, I suppose?"

"I saw him not half an hour ago, sir," was John's response.

"Tell him to bring the motor round," Jervaise ordered, and added something
in a lower voice, which, near as I was to them, I could not catch. I
imagined that it might be an instruction to have the chauffeur out again
if he had by any chance slunk off to bed within the last half-hour.