cox."

Margaret moved towards the house at this. She was determined not to
worry Henry.

"He's going to Scotland. I know he is. I insist on seeing him."

"Yes, to-morrow."

"I knew it was our last chance."

"How do you do, Mr. Bast?" said Margaret, trying to control her voice.
"This is an odd business. What view do you take of it?"

"There is Mrs. Bast, too," prompted Helen.

Jacky also shook hands. She, like her husband, was shy, and,
furthermore, ill, and furthermore, so bestially stupid that she could
not grasp what was happening. She only knew that the lady had swept down
like a whirlwind last night, had paid the rent, redeemed the furniture,
provided them with a dinner and a breakfast, and ordered them to meet
her at Paddington next morning. Leonard had feebly protested, and when
the morning came, had suggested that they shouldn't go. But she, half
mesmerised, had obeyed. The lady had told them to, and they must, and
their bed-sitting-room had accordingly changed into Paddington, and
Paddington into a railway carriage, that shook, and grew hot, and grew
cold, and vanished entirely, and reappeared amid torrents of expensive
scent. "You have fainted," said the lady in an awe-struck voice.
"Perhaps the air will do you good." And perhaps it had, for here she
was, feeling rather better among a lot of flowers.

"I'm sure I don't want to intrude," began Leonard, in answer to
Margaret's question. "But you have been so kind to me in the past
in warning me about the Porphyrion that I wondered--why, I wondered
whether--"

"Whether we could get him back into the Porphyrion again," supplied
Helen. "Meg, this has been a cheerful business. A bright evening's work
that was on Chelsea Embankment."

Margaret shook her head and returned to Mr. Bast.

"I don't understand. You left the Porphyrion because we suggested it was
a bad concern, didn't you?"

"That's right."

"And went into a bank instead?"

"I told you all that," said Helen; "and they reduced their staff after
he had been in a month, and now he's penniless, and I consider that we
and our informant are directly to blame."

"I hate all this," Leonard muttered.

"I hope you do, Mr. Bast. But it's no good mincing matters. You have
done yourself no good by coming here. If you intend to confront Mr.
Wilcox, and to call him to account for a chance remark, you will make a
very great mistake."

"I brought them. I did it all," cried Helen.

"I can only advise