I descried no showy woman with a tall youth dancing attendance; among the brick-red English faces there was not one that bore the least resemblance to the latest photograph of Bob Evers.
A little consideration suggested my first move.
"I think I saw a visitors' book in the hall," I said.

"I may as well stick down my name." But before doing so I ran my eye up and down the pages inscribed by those who had arrived that month.
"See anybody you know ?" inquired Quinby, who hovered obligingly at my elbow.

It was really necessary to be as disingenuous as possible, more especially with a person whose own conversation was evidently quite unguarded.
"Yes, by Jove I do! Robin Evers, of all people!" "Do you know him ?" The question came pretty quickly.

I was sorry I had said so much.
"Well, I once knew a small boy of that name; but then they are not a small clan." "His mother's the Honourable," said Quinby, with studious unconcern, yet I fancied with increased interest in me.
"I used to see something of them both," I deliberately admitted, "when the lad was little.

How has he turned out ?" Quinby gave his peculiar nasal laugh.
"A nice youth," said he.