Directly the ladies had gone, the little knot of financiers drew up nearer to their host, and Griffenberg raised his eyebrows interrogatively.

Sir Stephen nodded.

“Yes,” he said, in an undertone.  “It’s all right!  I heard this morning.  My man will be down, with the final decision, by a special train which ought to land him about midnight.  We’ll meet in the library, say at half past twelve, and get the thing finished, eh, baron?”

Wirsch grunted approval.

“Vare goot, Sare Stephen; dee sooner a ting ees congluded, de bedder.  ’Arf bast dwelve!”

There was but a short stay made in the drawing-room, and before ten o’clock the guests streamed into the magnificent ball-room.

There were a number of the neighbouring gentry who were making their acquaintance with the Villa for the first time, and they regarded the splendour around them with an amazement which was not without reason; for to-night the artistically designed and shaded electric lamps, the beautiful rooms with their chaste yet effective decorations, on which money had been lavished like water, were seen to their greatest advantage; and the Vaynes, the Bannerdales, and the local gentry generally exchanged glances and murmured exclamations of surprise and admiration, and wondered whether there could be any end to the wealth of a man who could raise such a palace in so short a time.

From the gallery of white-and-gold the famous band, every man of which was a musician, presently began to send forth the sweet strains of a Waldteufel waltz, and Stafford found Lady Clansford for the first dance.  Though he had paid little attention to Howard’s remarks about Maude Falconer, he remembered them, and he did not ask her for a dance until the ball had been running about an hour; then he went up to where she was standing talking to Lord Bunnerdale, her last partner.  His lordship and Stafford had already met, and Lord Bannerdale, who admired and liked Stafford, nodded pleasantly.

“I was just saying to Miss Falconer that I wish Fate had made me a great financier instead of a country squire, Orme!  By Jove! this place is a perfect—­er—­dream; and, when I think of my damp old house—­”

“What frightful language!” said Stafford.

Lord Bannerdale laughed.

“If Miss Falconer had not been present, I might just as well have used the other word.  I say I can’t help envying your father that magician’s wand with which he manages to raise such marvels.  I’m going to find him and tell him so!”

“A dance?” said Maude, as Stafford proffered his request.  “Yes, I have one, only one; it is this.”

He put his arm round her, and as he did so her eyes half closed and her lip quivered at his touch.  Stafford waltzed well, and Maude was far and away the best dancer in the room; they moved as one body in the slow and graceful modern waltz, and Stafford, in the enjoyment of this perfect poetry of motion, forgot everything, even his partner; but he came back from his reverie as she suddenly paused.