Here Professor Higginson lifted his head and fumbled for a moment with his collar-stud. It was an unfortunate, it was a tragic move! For as he lifted his eyes during that one instant he saw a sight that froze his blood. Squeezing with many apologies through the standing mass at the end and sides of the great room was a very well-dressed young gentleman, close-knit, dark in features, an athlete, and the features above the smart coat and collar were features that he knew!
The form edged its way, bearing before it with exquisite skill an exquisite top hat, inverted. It was making for the front row of chairs, where one or two places still remained reserved and unused, and, as that form advanced, subliminal fear—the Oldest of the Gods—towered up over Professor Higginson's soul. It was Jimmy!
The young man had made his way to the front row of chairs; he had sat down; he had carefully deposited his hat beneath it. The mass of those who govern us were beginning to turn their faces, some in annoyance, some in amusement, towards him—the two duchesses, the four actresses, the eight courtesans had already lifted to their eyes long-handled spectacles of scorn, when the dreadful little
