Street and at the House, seemed to have the gift of fading absolutely
out of sight from the ken of even his closest friends when the task of
the day was accomplished. He excused himself always, courteously but
finally, from accepting anything whatever in the way of social
entertainment, he belonged to no clubs, and, if pressed, he frankly
confessed a predilection which amounted almost to passion for solitude
during those hours not actually devoted to official duties. The
invitation to dinner, therefore, was received by Tallente with some
surprise. He had grown into the habit of looking upon Dartrey as a man
who had no real existence outside the routine of their daily work. He
welcomed with avidity, therefore, this opportunity of understanding a
little more thoroughly Dartrey's pleasant but elusive personality.

The house itself, situated in a Chelsea square of some repute, was small
and unostentatious, but was painted a spotless white and possessed, even
from the outside, an air of quiet and unassuming elegance. A trim
maid-servant opened the door and ushered him into a drawing-room of grey
and silver, with a little faded blue in the silks of the French chairs.
There were a few fine-point etchings upon the walls, a small grand piano
in a corner, and very little furniture, although the little there was
was French of the best period. There were no flowers and the atmosphere
would have been chilly, but for the brightly burning fire. Tallente was
scarcely surprised when Dartrey's entrance alone indicated the fact
that, as was generally supposed, he was free from family ties.

"I am a little early, I am afraid," Tallente remarked, as they shook
hands.

"Admirably punctual," the other replied. "I shall make no apologies to
you for my small party. I have asked only Miss Miall and Miller to meet