But the surprising feature of the decorating scheme was not apparent at first glance.  Through the bewildering riot of greenery had been woven an almost invisible netting, and the space behind formed a prison for birds and butterflies.  Where they had come from or at what expense they had been procured it was impossible to conceive.  But, disturbed by the commotion, the feathered creatures twittered and fluttered against the netting in a panic which drew attention to them even if it did not wholly convey the illusion of a woodland scene.  As for the butterflies, no artificial light could deceive them, and they clung with closed wings to leaves and branches, only now and then displaying their full glory in a sleepy protest.  There were scores, hundreds of them, and the diners passed in review of the spectacle like country visitors before the glass tanks of the Aquarium.  A strident shriek sounded as a gorgeously caparisoned peacock preened himself; others were discovered here and there, brilliant-hued specimens, voicing shrill indignation.

“How—­beautiful!” gasped Lorelei, when she had taken in the whole scene.  “But—­the poor little things are frightened.”  She looked up to find her companion staring in Hammon’s direction with an expression of peculiar, derisive amusement.

Hammon was the center of an admiring group; congratulations were being hurled at him from every quarter.  At his side was Lilas Lynn, very dark, very striking, very expensively gowned, and elaborately bejeweled.  The room was dinning with the strains of an invisible orchestra and the vocal uproar; topping the confusion came shrieks from the excitable peacocks; the wild birds twittered and beat themselves affrightedly against the netting.

Becoming conscious of Lorelei’s gaze, her escort looked down, showing his teeth in a grin that was not of pleasure.

“You like it?” he asked.

“It’s beautiful, but—­the extravagance is almost criminal.”

“Don’t tell me how many starving newsboys or how many poor families the cost of this supper would support for a year.  I hate poor people.  I like to see ’em starve.  If you fed them this year they’d starve next, so—­what’s the difference?  Nevertheless, Jarvis has surprised me.”  He paused, and his eyes, as he stared again at the steel magnate, were mocking.  “You’ll admit it was a dazzling idea—­coming from a rolling-mill boss.  Now for the ortolans and the humming-bird tongues.  No doubt there’s a pearl in every wine-cup.  Prepare to have your palate tickled with a feather when your appetite flags.”

“That’s what the Romans did, isn’t it?”

“Ah, you are a student as well as an artist, Miss Knight.”

“I thought you were going to be pleasant, but you’re not, are you?” Lorelei was smiling fixedly.

“No, quite the opposite.  Thank God, I’m a dyspeptic.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“Why did those birds come?  Why did you come?”