CHAPTER XXIV

THE ART OF PROPHESYING They walked on, side by side, to the house in Grosvenor Gardens. Florian let himself in with a latch-key, and rang the bell for his servant. While he waited, he wrote a name on the back of a card, carelessly. “Look here, Barnes,” the butterfly of Society said, as his eminently respectable man-of-all-work entered; “this is Mr Joaquin Holmes,”—and he handed him the card—“you can read the name there. He comes from America. I particularly desire you to remark Mr Joaquin Holmes’s appearance and fe…