They sat together at a small table, looking upon a scene which was probably unique in the history of the great restaurant. The younger man was both frankly interested and undoubtedly curious. Mr. Sabin, though his eyes seemed everywhere, retained to the full extent that nonchalance of manner which all his life he had so assiduously cultivated.
"It is wonderful, my dear Felix," he said, leisurely drawing his cigarette-case from his pocket, "wonderful what good fellowship can be evolved by a kindred interest in sport, and a bottle or so of good champagne. But, after all, this is not to be taken seriously."
"Shamrock the fourth! Shamrock the fourth!"
A tall young American, his thick head of hair, which had once been carefully parted in the middle, a little disheveled, his hard, clean-cut face flushed with enthusiasm, had risen to his feet and stood with a brimming glass of champagne high over his head. Almost every one in the room rose to their feet. A college boy sprang upon a table with extended arms. The Yale shout split the room. The very glasses on the table rattled.
"Columbia! Columbia!"
It was an Englishman now who had leaped upon a vacant table with upraised glass. There was an answering roar of enthusiasm. Every one drank, and every one sat down again with a pleasant thrill of excitement at this unique scene. Felix leaned back in his chair and marveled.
"One would have imagined," he murmured, "that America and England together were at war with the rest of the world and had won a great victory. To think that this is all the result of a yacht race. It is incredible!"
"All your life, my dear Felix," Mr. Sabin remarked, "you have underrated the sporting instinct. It has a great place amongst the impulses of the world. See how it has brought these people together."
"But they are already of the same kin," Felix remarked. "Their interests and aims are alike. Their destinies are surely identical."
Mr. Sabin, who had lit his cigarette, watched the blue smoke curl upwards, and was thoughtful for a moment.
"My dear Felix!" he said. "You are very, very young. The interests of two great nations such as America and England can never be alike.
It is the language of diplomacy, but it is also the language of fools."
Their conversation was for the moment interrupted by a fresh murmur of applause, rising above the loved hum of conversation, the laughter of women, and the popping of corks. A little troop of waiters had just wheeled into the room two magnificent models of yachts hewn out of blocks of solid ice and crowned with flowers. On the one were the Stars and Stripes, on the other the Shamrock and Thistle. There was much clapping of hands and cheering. Lady Carey, who was sitting at the next table with her back to them, joined in the applause so heartily that a tiny gold pencil attached to her bracelet became detached and rolled unobserved to Mr. Sabin's side. Felix half rose to pick it up, but was suddenly checked by a quick gesture from his companion.
"Leave it," Mr. Sabin whispered. "I wish to return it myself."
He stooped and picked it up, a certain stealthiness apparent in his movement. Felix watched him in amazement.
"It is Lady Carey's, is it not?" he asked.
"Yes. Be silent. I will give it back to her presently."
A waiter served them with coffee. Mr. Sabin was idly sketching something on the back of his menu card. Felix broke into a little laugh as the man retired.
"Mysterious as ever," he remarked.
Mr. Sabin smiled quietly. He went on with his sketch.
"I do not want," Felix said, "to seem impatient, but you must remember that I have come all the way from Europe in response to a very urgent message. As yet I have done nothing except form a very uncomfortable third at a luncheon and tea party, and listen to a good deal of enigmatic conversation between you and the charming Lady Carey. This evening I made sure that I should be enlightened. But no! You have given me a wonderful dinner - from you I expected it. We have eaten terrapin, canvas-back duck, and many other things the names of which alone were known to me. But of the reason for which you have summoned me here - I know nothing.
Not one word have you spoken. I am beginning to fear from your avoidance of the subject that there is some trouble between you and Lucille. I beg that you will set my anxiety at rest."
Mr. Sabin nodded.
"It is reasonable," he said. "Look here!"
He turned the menu card round. On the back he had sketched some sort of a device with the pencil which he had picked up, and which instead of black-lead contained a peculiar shade of yellow crayon.
Felix sat as though turned to stone.
"Try," Mr. Sabin said smoothly, "and avoid that air of tragedy.
Some of these good people might be curious.
Felix leaned across the table. He pointed to the menu card.
"What does that mean?" he muttered.
Mr. Sabin contemplated it himself thoughtfully. "Well," he said, "I rather thought that you might be able to explain that to me.
I have an idea that there is a society in Europe - sort of aristocratic odd-fellows, you know - who had adopted it for their crest. Am I not right?"
Felix looked at him steadfastly.
"Tell me two things," he said. "First, why you sent for me, and secondly, what do you mean - by that?"
"Lucille," Mr. Sabin said, "has been taken away from me."
"Lucille! Great God!"
"She has been taken away from me," Mr. Sabin said, "without a single word of warning."
Felix pointed to the menu card.
"By them?" he asked.
