Tavernake went on into the smoking-room and threw himself into an easy-chair.  He had been there perhaps for ten minutes when Pritchard entered.  Certainly it was a night of surprises!  Even Pritchard, cool, deliberate, slow in his movements and speech, seemed temporarily flurried.  He came into the room walking quickly.  As the door swung back, he turned round as though to assure himself that he was not being followed.  He did not at first see Tavernake.  He sat on the arm of an easy-chair, his hands in his pockets, his eternal cigar in the corner of his mouth, his eyes fixed upon the doors through which he had issued.  Without a doubt, something had disturbed him.  He had the look of a man who had received a blow, a surprise of some sort over which he was still ruminating.  Then he glanced around the room and saw Tavernake.

“Hullo, young man!” he exclaimed.  “So this is the way you follow my advice!”

“I never promised to follow it,” Tavernake reminded him.

Pritchard wheeled an easy-chair across the room and called to the waiter.

“Come,” he said, “you shall stand me a drink.  Two whiskies and sodas, Tim.  And now, Mr. Leonard Tavernake, you are going to answer me a question.”

“Am I?” Tavernake muttered.

“You came down in the lift with Mrs. Wenham Gardner half an hour ago, you went into the restaurant and ordered supper.  She is there still and you are here.  Have you quarreled?”

“No, we did not quarrel,” Tavernake answered.  “She explained that she was supping in the caf‚ only for the sake of meeting one man.  She wanted an escort.  I filled that post until the man came.”

“He is there now?” Pritchard asked.

“He is there now,” Tavernake assented.

Pritchard withdrew the cigar from his mouth and watched it for a moment.

“Say, Tavernake,” he went on, “is that man who is now having supper with Mrs. Wenham Gardner the man whom she expected?”

“I imagine so,” Tavernake replied.

“Didn’t she seem in any way scared or disturbed when he first turned up?”

“She looked as I have seen no one else on earth look before,” Tavernake admitted.  “She seemed simply terrified to death.  I do not know why—­she didn’t explain—­but that is how she looked.”

“Yet she sent you away!”

“She sent me away.  She didn’t care what became of me.  She was watching the door all the time before he came.  Who is he, Pritchard?”

“That sounds a simple question,” Pritchard answered gravely, “but it means a good deal.  There’s mischief afoot to-night, Tavernake.”

“You seem to thrive on it,” Tavernake retorted, drily.  “Any more bunkum?”

Pritchard smiled.

“Come,” he said,” you’re a sensible chap.  Take these things for what they’re worth.  Believe me when I tell you now that there is a great deal more in the coming of this man than Mrs. Wenham Gardner ever bargained for.”