'What names shall I announce, sir?' said the man at the door. Mr Tracy Tupman was about to give his own name when the stranger stopped him.

'No names at all;' he told the man and then whispered to Mr Tupman, ' Our names won't do - they're not known - they're good names, but not great ones - excellent names for a small group, but not good enough for a public meeting. We'll say we don't want to give our names - that's the way to do it - say we're gentlemen from London, or foreigners - anything.' The door was opened, and Mr Tracy Tupman and the stranger entered the ballroom.

It was a long room, with dark red seats, and wax candles in glass chandeliers. The musicians were higher up than the dancers, in their own little room, and on the floor, two or three sets of dancers were steadily working through their dance routine. Two card-tables were prepared in the card-room, and two pairs of old ladies, and the same number of rather fat gentlemen, were playing cards.

The music finished, the dancers walked proudly around the room, and Mr Tupman and his companion put themselves in a corner to watch everyone there.