"And what has become of your American friend?" Asked the adventurer.
"He tired quickly, that one, and packed himself off to Troyon's. Be sure I didn't press him to continue the grand tour!"
"Then you really did wish to see me to-night?" Lanyard enquired innocently.
"Always—always, my dear Lanyard!" the Count declared, jumping up. "But come," he insisted: "I've a word for your private ear, if these gentlemen will excuse us."
"Do!" Lanyard addressed in a confidential manner those he knew at the table, before turning away to the tug of the Count's hand on his arm—"I think he means to pay up twenty pounds he owes me!"
Some derisive laughter greeted this sally.
"I mean that, however," Lanyard informed the other cheerfully as they moved away to a corner where conversation without an audience was possible—"you ruined that Bank of England note, you know."
"Cheap at the price!" the Count protested, producing his bill-fold. "Five hundred francs for an introduction to Monsieur the Lone Wolf!"
"Are you joking?" Lanyard asked blankly—and with a magnificent gesture abolished the proffered banknote.
"Joking? I! But surely you don't mean to deny—"
"My friend," Lanyard interrupted, "before we assert or deny anything, let us gather the rest of the players round the table and deal from a sealed deck. Meantime,
