I realised that we should have to sit through a whole
tune from the orchestra before the curtain went up again for Gorman's
play. I expected trouble and was pleasantly surprised when none came.
Mrs. Ascher had a cold. I daresay that made her slightly deaf and
mitigated the torture of the music.

She sat forward in the box and looked round at the audience with some
show of interest. The audience looked at her with very great interest.
Her clothes that night were more startling than any I have ever seen her
wear. A young man in the stalls stared at her for some time, and then,
just when I thought he had fully taken her in, bowed to her. She turned
to Ascher.

"Who is that?" she said. "The man in the fifth row, three seats from the
end, yes, there. He has a lady with him."

I saw the man distinctly, a well-set-up young fellow with a carefully
waxed, fair moustache. The way his hair was brushed and something about
the cut of his clothes made me sure that he was not an Englishman. The
lady with him was, quite obviously, not a lady in the old-fashioned
sense of the word. She seemed to me the kind of woman who would have
no scruples about forming a temporary friendship with a man provided he
would give her dinner, wine, and some sort of entertainment.

Ascher fumbled for his pince-nez, which he carries attached to a black
silk ribbon. He fixed them on his nose and took a good look at the young
man.

"Ah," he said, "my nephew, Albrecht von Richter. You remember him. He
dined with us two or three times when we were in Berlin in 1912. I did
not know he was in London."

I somehow got the impression that Ascher was not particularly pleased
to see his nephew Albrecht. Ascher was not looking very well. I had not
seen him for some time, and I noticed even at dinner that his face was
pale and drawn. In the theatre he seemed worse and I thought that the
sudden appearance of his nephew had annoyed him. The young man whispered
something to his companion and left his seat. The orchestra was still
thrashing its way through its tune and there seemed no immediate
prospect of the curtain going up.

A few minutes later there was a tap at the door of our box and Von
Richter came in. Mrs. Ascher held out her hand to him. He bent over it
and kissed it with very pretty courtesy. He shook hands with Ascher who
introduced him to me.

"Captain von Richter--Sir James Digby."

Von Richter bowed profoundly. I nodded.

"Have you been long in