"
Tavernake went outside and listened idly to the song which was
proceeding. It was a class of music which secretly he preferred
to the stranger and more haunting notes of Beatrice's melodies.
Apparently the audience was of his opinion, for they received it
with a vociferous encore, to which the young lady generously
replied with a music-hall song about "A French lady from over the
water." Towards the close of the applause which marked the
conclusion of this effort, Tavernake felt himself touched lightly
upon the arm. He turned round. By his side was standing the
other dinner guest who had shown some interest in Beatrice. He
was a man apparently of about forty years of age, tall and
broad-shouldered, with black moustache, and dark, piercing eyes.
Unlike most of the guests, he wore a short dinner-coat and black
tie, from which, and his slight accent, Tavernake concluded that
he was probably an American.
"Say, you'll forgive my speaking to you," he said, touching
Tavernake on the arm. "My name is Pritchard. I saw you come in
with the young lady who was singing a few minutes ago, and if you
won't consider it a liberty, I'll be very glad indeed if you'll
answer me one question."
Tavernake stiffened insensibly.
"It depends upon the question," he replied, shortly.
"Well, it's about the young lady, and that's a fact," Mr.
Pritchard admitted. "I see that her name upon the programme is
given as Miss Tavernake. I was seated at the other end of the
room but she seemed to me remarkably like a young lady from the
other side of the Atlantic, whom I am very anxious to meet.
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