full swing. Scarcely anyone was dancing, but the walls were well lined, and the crush about the doors suggestive of a cup tie.

"Who's that tall chap with the white hair?" inquired Rohscheimer from the palmy corner to which Haredale discreetly had conveyed him.

"That is the Comte de Noeue," replied his informant; "a distinguished member of the French diplomatic corps."

"We're getting on!" chuckled the millionaire. "He's a good man to have, isn't he Haredale?"

"Highly respectable!" said the latter dryly.

"We don't seem to get the dooks, and so on?"

"The older nobility is highly conservative!" explained Haredale evasively. "But Mrs. Rohscheimer is a recognised leader of the smart set."

Rohscheimer swayed his massive head in bear-like discontent.

"I don't get the hang of this smart set business," he complained. "Aren't the dooks and earls and so on in the smart set?"

"Not strictly so!" answered Haredale, helping himself to brandy-and-soda.

This social conundrum was too much for the millionaire, and he lapsed into heavy silence, to be presently broken with the remark:

"All the Johnnies holding the wall up are alike, Haredale! It's funny I don't know any of 'em! You see them in the sixpenny monthlies, with the girl they're going to marry in the opposite column. Give me their names, will you—starting with the one this end?"

Haredale, intending, good-humouredly, to comply, glanced around the spacious room—only to realise that he, too, was unacquainted with the possibly distinguished company of muralites.

"I rather fancy," he said, "a lot of the people you mean are Discoveries—of Mrs. Rohscheimer's, you know—writers and painters and so forth."

"No, no!" complained the host. "I know all that lot—and they all know me! I mean the nice-looking fellows round the wall! I haven't been introduced, Haredale. They've come in since this waltz started."

Haredale looked again, and his slightly bored expression gave place to one of curiosity.

CHAPTER II

"THIRTY MEN WHO WERE ALL ALIKE"

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