He bowed and raised his hat to many, but he entered into conversation with none.
"Ce Vassili," he heard more than once whispered, "c'est un homme dangereux." And he smiled all the more pleasantly.
Now, if a very keen observer had taken the trouble to ignore the throng and watch two persons only, that observer might have discovered the fact that Claude de Chauxville was slowly and purposely making his way toward the man called Vassili.
De Chauxville knew and was known of many.

He had but recently arrived from London.

He found himself called upon to shake hands a l'anglais with this one and that, giving all and sundry his impressions of the perfidious Albion with a verve and neatness truly French.

He went from one to the other with perfect grace and savoir-faire, and each change of position brought him nearer to the middle-aged man with upturned mustache, upon whom his movements were by no means lost.
Finally De Chauxville bumped against the object of his quest--possibly, indeed, the object of his presence at the Concours Hippique.

He turned with a ready apology.
"Ah!" he exclaimed; "the very man I was desiring to see." The individual known as "ce Vassili"-- a term of mingled contempt and distrust--bowed very low.