Presently Katherine caught sight of a stately head above the general level of the crowd, and a pair of grave eyes evidently seeking something.  Who was Errington looking for?  Miss Bradley, of course!  As she arrived at this conclusion, De Burgh appeared at the head of the stairs, looking, as he always did, extremely distinguished—­his dark strong face showing in remarkable contrast to the simpering young minstrels, pale young poets, and long-haired professors who formed the larger half of the male guests.

“Well, Miss Liddell, are you quite well and flourishing?  Why, it is quite three days since I saw you,” he asked, and his eyes dwelt on her with a look of utter restful satisfaction—­a look that disturbed her.

“Is it, indeed?  They seem all rolled into a single disagreeable one to me.”

“Tell me all about it,” said De Burgh, in a low confidential tone.  “Must you stand here in the gangway? it’s awfully hot and crowded.”

Before she could reply, Errington forced his way through the crowd, and addressed her.

“I began to fear I should not find you, Miss Liddell,” he said, with a pleasant smile.  “I have been away for some time—­though perhaps you were not aware of it.”

“I was aware we did not see you as frequently as usual.  Where have you been?”

“On a secret and delicate mission which taxed all my diplomatic skill, for I had to deal with an extremely crotchetty Scotchman.”

“You make me feel desperately curious,” said Katherine, languidly.

“How do you do, Errington?” put in De Burgh.  “I heard of you in Edinburgh last week;” and they exchanged a few words.  Then, to Katherine’s annoyance, De Burgh said, with an air of proprietorship, “I am going to take Miss Liddell out of this mob, to have tea and air, if we can get any.  I have to hear news, too,” he added, significantly.

Errington grew very grave, and drew back immediately with a slight bow, as if he accepted a dismissal.

There was no help for it, so Katherine took De Burgh’s offered arm and went downstairs.

“I wonder what the secret mission could have been?” said Katherine, when they found themselves in the tea-room.

“God knows!  I wonder Errington did not go in for diplomacy when he smashed up.  He is just the man for protocols, and solemn mysteries, and all that.”

“Men cannot jump into diplomatic appointments, can they?”

“No, I suppose not.  I hear some of Errington’s political articles have attracted Lord G——­’s notice; they say he’ll be in Parliament one of these days.  Well, he deserves to win, if that sort of thing be worth winning.”

“Of course it is.  Have you no ambition, Lord de Burgh?  Were I a man, I should be very ambitious.”

“I have no doubt you would; and if you had a husband you’d drive him up the ladder at the bayonet’s point.”

“Poor man!  I pity him beforehand.”