“Quite so, and devilish good!  That ain’t bad, ’depend upon France for the champagne!’ There is nothing like your American humor, Miss Mavick.”

“It needs an Englishman to appreciate it,” replied Evelyn, with a twinkle in her eyes which was lost upon her guest.

In the midst of these courtesies Philip bowed himself away.  The party was over for him, though he wandered about for a while, was attracted again by the music to the ballroom, and did find there a dinner acquaintance with whom he took a turn.  The lady must have thought him a very uninteresting or a very absent-minded companion.

As for Lord Montague, after he had what he called a “go” in the dancing-room, he found his way back to the buffet in the supper-room, and the historian says that he greatly enjoyed himself, and was very amusing, and that he cultivated the friendship of an obliging waiter early in the morning, who conducted his lordship to his cab.

XVII

The morning after The Puritan Nun was out, as Philip sat at his office desk, conscious that the eyes of the world were on him, Mr. Mavick entered, bowed to him absent-mindedly, and was shown into Mr. Hunt’s room.

Philip had dreaded to come to the office that morning and encounter the inquisition and perhaps the compliments of his fellow-clerks.  He had seen his name in staring capitals in the book-seller’s window as he came down, and he felt that it was shamefully exposed to the public gaze, and that everybody had seen it.  The clerks, however, gave no sign that the event had disturbed them.  He had encountered many people he knew on the street, but there had been no recognition of his leap into notoriety.  Not a fellow in the club, where he had stopped a moment, had treated him with any increased interest or deference.  In the office only one person seemed aware of his extraordinary good fortune.  Mr. Tweedle had come to the desk and offered his hand in his usual conciliatory and unctuous manner.

“I see by the paper, Mr. Burnett, that we are an author.  Let me congratulate you.  Mrs. Tweedle told me not to come home without bringing your story.  Who publishes it?”

“I shall be much honored,” said Philip, blushing, “if Mrs. Tweedle will accept a copy from me.”

“I didn’t mean that, Mr. Burnett; but, of course, gift of the author —­Mrs. Tweedle will be very much pleased.”

In half an hour Mr. Mavick came out, passed him without recognition, and hurried from the office, and Philip was summoned to Mr. Hunt’s room.

“I want you to go to Washington immediately, Mr. Burnett.  Return by the night train.  You can do without your grip?  Take these papers to Buckston Higgins—­you see the address—­who represents the British Argentine syndicate.  Wait till he reads them and get his reply.  Here is the money for the trip.  Oh, after Mr. Higgins writes his answer, ask him if you can telegraph me ‘yes’ or ‘no.’  Good-morning.”