The man was an American, without a doubt.

Perhaps he knew something of Beatrice.

Perhaps this was one of the friends of that former life concerning which she had told him nothing.
"You are not, by any chance, proposing," Tavernake said at last, "to discuss either of these ladies with me?
I do not know you or what your business may be.

In any case, I am going now." The other laid his hand on Tavernake's shoulder.
"You'll be soaked to the skin," he protested.

"I want you to come into the smoking-room here with me for a few minutes.