"Ah, my dear Mr.Scarmelli, you and Miss Zelie are most welcome," continued the superintendent.

"My friend and I were this moment talking about you." Cleek glanced across the room, and, as was customary with him, made up his mind instantly.

The girl, despite her association with the arena, was a modest, unaffected little thing of about eighteen; the man was a straight-looking, clear-eyed, boyish-faced young fellow of about eight-and-twenty; well, but by no means flashily, dressed, and carrying himself with the air of one who respects himself and demands the respect of others.

He was evidently an Englishman, despite his Italian _nom de theatre_, and Cleek decided out of hand that he liked him.
"We can shelve 'George Headland' in this instance, Mr.Narkom," he said, as the superintendent led forward the pair for the purpose of introducing them, and suffered himself to be presented in the name of Cleek.
The effect of this was electrical; would, in fact, had he been a vain man, have been sufficient to gratify him to the fullest, for the girl, with a little "Oh!" of amazement, drew back and stood looking at him with a sort of awe that rounded her eyes and parted her lips, while the man leaned heavily upon the back of a convenient chair and looked and acted as one utterly overcome.
"Cleek!" he repeated, after a moment's despairful silence.

"You, sir, are that great man?
This is a misfortune, indeed." "A misfortune, my friend?
Why a 'misfortune,' pray?
Do you think the riddle you have brought is beyond my powers ?" "Oh, no; not that--never that!" he made reply.