As Big Ben boomed forth twelve o'clock over London that same night the
supper-room at the Savoy was filled to overflowing with a boisterous,
well-dressed crowd of after-theatre revellers. The scene was brighter
and gayer perhaps than any other scene at that hour in all the giant
city. The "smart set," that slangy, vulgar result of society's
degeneration, was as largely represented as usual; the women were fair,
the jewels sparkled, the dresses were rich, and in the atmosphere was
that restlessness, that perpetual craze for excitement which proves so
attractive to habitues of the place.
Every table in the great room was engaged, and the company was
essentially _le monde ou l'on s'amuse_. But you probably have sat there
amid the hurrying of the waiters, the hum of voices, the loud laughter
of "smart women," the clinking of champagne-glasses, that babel of noise
drowned by the waltzes played by the Hungarian band. The air was heavy
with the combined odour of a hundred perfumes, the fresh flowers drooped
upon the tables, and the merry company crowded into that last half-hour
all the merriment they could before the lights were lowered.
At such places one sees exhibited in public the full, true, and sole
omnipotence of money--how it wins the impoverished great ones to be
guests of its possessor, how it purchases the smiles of the haughtiest,
the favours of the most exclusive.
Lazily watching that animated scene, the two men who had been guests at
Orton, Dubard and Borselli, were sitting apart at a small table near the
window. A bottle of Krug stood between them, and as they leaned their
elbows on the table they criticised their fellow-guests, speaking in
Italian, so that their remarks should not be understood by their
neighbours.
The band had just concluded Desgranges' "Jalouse," that air so
reminiscent of the terrace of the Cafe de Paris at Monte Carlo, the
leader had bowed to the company, and the waiters were busy collecting
the banknotes with which the bills were in most cases paid, when the
Italian drained his glass, saying--
"Let us go! I've had enough of this! Come on to Claridge's with me for
a final cigar."
"A moment?" exclaimed Dubard, his eyes fixed across the room. "Do you
see over there, just behind the column, two ladies with a stout man with
grey side-whiskers? One of the ladies is in blue. What a terrible
vulgarian the fellow is! I've been watching him."