“The Duchess was always very kind to me,” Dominey admitted doubtfully, “but I am afraid she was rather fed up before I left England.”

Mr. Mangan smiled.  He was enjoying a very excellent lunch, which it seemed hard to believe was ordered by a man just home from the wilds of Africa, and he thoroughly enjoyed talking about duchesses.

“Her Grace,” he began—­

“Well?”

The lawyer had paused, with his eyes glued upon the couple at a neighbouring table.  He leaned across towards his companion.

“The Duchess herself, Sir Everard, just behind you, with Lord St. Omar.”

“This place must certainly be the rendezvous of all the world,” Dominey declared, as he held out his hand to a man who had approached their table.  “Seaman, my friend, welcome!  Let me introduce you to my friend and legal adviser, Mr. Mangan—­Mr. Seaman.”

Mr. Seaman was a short, fat man, immaculately dressed in most conventional morning attire.  He was almost bald, except for a little tuft on either side, and a few long, fair hairs carefully brushed back over a shining scalp.  His face was extraordinarily round except towards his chin, where it came to a point; his eyes bright and keen, his mouth the mouth of a professional humourist.  He shook hands with the lawyer with an empressement which was scarcely English.

“Within the space of half an hour,” Dominey continued, “I find a princess who desires to claim my acquaintance; a cousin,” he dropped his voice a little, “who lunches only a few tables away, and the man of whom I have seen the most during the last ten years amidst scenes a little different from these, eh, Seaman?”

Seaman accepted the chair which the waiter had brought and sat down.  The lawyer was immediately interested.

“Do I understand, then,” he asked, addressing the newcomer, “that you knew Sir Everard in Africa?”

Seaman beamed.  “Knew him?” he repeated, and with the first words of his speech the fact of his foreign nationality was established.  “There was no one of whom I knew so much.  We did business together—­a great deal of business—­and when we were not partners, Sir Everard generally got the best of it.”

Dominey laughed.  “Luck generally comes to a man either early or late in life.  My luck came late.  I think, Seaman, that you must have been my mascot.  Nothing went wrong with me during the years that we did business together.”

Seaman was a little excited.  He brushed upright with the palm of his hand one of those little tufts of hair left on the side of his head, and he laid his plump fingers upon the lawyer’s shoulder.