Liversedge and his
relative walked off to the Institute, and entered the
committee-room. Two or three gentlemen had already arrived; they
were no strangers to Denzil, and a lively conversation at once
sprang up. In a few minutes the door again opened to admit Mr.
William Glazzard. The chairman of the evening came forward with
lounging steps. Regardless of the others present, he fixed his eye
upon Quarrier, and examined him from head to foot. In this case,
also, introduction was unnecessary.
"You have lost no time," he remarked, holding out his hand, and
glancing from the young man to Mr. Liversedge.
"Your brother has given you a hint?" said the latter.
"Oh yes! How am I to phrase my introductory remarks?"
"Quite without reference to the political topic."
The others murmured an approval.
"Eustace well again?" asked Quarrier. "He went home with a bad
headache last night."
"He'll be here," answered Mr. Glazzard, laconically. "Liversedge, a
word with you."
The two stepped apart and conversed under cover of the chat that
went on in front of the fire. Mr. Glazzard merely wished for a few
hints to direct him when he introduced the lecturer; he was silent
about his brother's frustrated project.
Fresh members of the committee kept appearing. The room resounded
with talk and laughter. Denzil had a higher colour than usual, but
he seemed perfectly self-possessed; his appearance and colloquial
abilities made a very favourable impression.
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