Chapter 4
To reach their table, the one concerning which Francis and his
friend had been speculating, the new arrivals, piloted by Louis,
had to pass within a few feet of the two men. The woman, serene,
coldly beautiful, dressed like a Frenchwoman in unrelieved black,
with extraordinary attention to details, passed them by with a
careless glance and subsided into the chair which Louis was
holding. Her companion, however, as he recognised Francis
hesitated. His expression of somewhat austere gloom was lightened.
A pleasant but tentative smile parted his lips. He ventured upon a
salutation, half a nod, half a more formal bow, a salutation which
Francis instinctively returned. Andrew Wilmore looked on with
curiosity.
“So that is Oliver Hilditch,” he murmured.
“That is the man,”
