“It’s quite an idea for a Christmas party,” said Lady Blonze; “we must certainly do it here.”

Sir Nicholas was not so enthusiastic.  “Are you quite sure, my dear, that you’re wise in doing this thing?” he said to his wife when they were alone together.  “It might do very well at the Mathesons, where they had rather a staid, elderly house-party, but here it will be a different matter.  There is the Durmot flapper, for instance, who simply stops at nothing, and you know what Van Tahn is like.  Then there is Cyril Skatterly; he has madness on one side of his family and a Hungarian grandmother on the other.”

“I don’t see what they could do that would matter,” said Lady Blonze.

“It’s the unknown that is to be dreaded,” said Sir Nicholas.  “If Skatterly took it into his head to represent a Bull of Bashan, well, I’d rather not be here.”

“Of course we shan’t allow any Bible characters.  Besides, I don’t know what the Bulls of Bashan really did that was so very dreadful; they just came round and gaped, as far as I remember.”

“My dear, you don’t know what Skatterly’s Hungarian imagination mightn’t read into the part; it would be small satisfaction to say to him afterwards:  ‘You’ve behaved as no Bull of Bashan would have behaved.’”

“Oh, you’re an alarmist,” said Lady Blonze; “I particularly want to have this idea carried out.  It will be sure to be talked about a lot.”

“That is quite possible,” said Sir Nicholas.

* * * * *

Dinner that evening was not a particularly lively affair; the strain of trying to impersonate a self-imposed character or to glean hints of identity from other people’s conduct acted as a check on the natural festivity of such a gathering.  There was a general feeling of gratitude and acquiescence when good-natured Rachel Klammerstein suggested that there should be an hour or two’s respite from “the game” while they all listened to a little piano-playing after dinner.  Rachel’s love of piano music was not indiscriminate, and concentrated itself chiefly on selections rendered by her idolised offspring, Moritz and Augusta, who, to do them justice, played remarkably well.

The Klammersteins were deservedly popular as Christmas guests; they gave expensive gifts lavishly on Christmas Day and New Year, and Mrs. Klammerstein had already dropped hints of her intention to present the prize for the best enacted character in the game competition.  Every one had brightened at this prospect; if it had fallen to Lady Blonze, as hostess, to provide the prize, she would have considered that a little souvenir of some twenty or twenty-five shillings’ value would meet the case, whereas coming from a Klammerstein source it would certainly run to several guineas.