ow that," said Audrey. "But you are such an expensive luxury."

Mr. Shinner pushed away the accusation with both hands. "Madam, madam, I
shall take all the risks. I should not dream, now, of asking for a cheque
on account. On the contrary, I should guarantee a percentage of the gross
receipts. Perhaps I am unwise to take risks--I dare say I am--but I could
not bear to see your husband in the hands of another agent. We professional
men have our feelings."

"Don't cry, Mr. Shinner," said Audrey impulsively. It was not a proper
remark to make, but the sudden impetuous entrance of Musa himself, carrying
his violin case, eased the situation.

"There is a man which is asking for you outside in the corridor," said Musa
to his wife. "It is the gardener, Aguilar, I think. I have brought all the
luggage, not excluding that which was lost at Hamburg." He had a glorious
air, and was probably more proud of his still improving English and of his
ability as a courier than of his triumphs on the fiddle. "Ah!" Mr. Shinner
was bowing before him.

"This is Mr. Shinner, the agent, my love," said Audrey. "I'll leave you to
talk to him. He sees money in you."

In the passage the authentic Aguilar stood with Miss Ingate.

"Here's Mr. Aguilar," said Miss Ingate. "I'm just going into No. 37, Madame
Piriac's room. Don't you think Mr. Aguilar looks vehy odd in London?"

"Good morning, Aguilar. You in town on business?"

Aguilar touched his forehead. It is possible that he looked very odd in
London, but he was wearing a most respectable new suit of clothes, and
might well have passed for a land agent.

"'Mornin', ma'am. I had to come up because I couldn't get delivery of those
wallpapers you chose. Otherwise all the repairs and alterations are going
on as well as could be expected."

"And how is your wife, Aguilar?"

"She's nicely, thank ye, ma'am. I pointed out to the foreman that it would
be a mistake to make the dining-room door open the other way, as the
architect suggested. But he would do it. However, I've told you, ma'am.
It'll only have to be altered back. Perhaps I ought to tell you that I took
the liberty of taking a fortnight's holiday, ma'am. It's the only holiday I
ever did take, except the annual day off for the Colchester Rose Show,
which is perhaps more a matter of business with a head gardener than a
holiday, as ye might say. My wife wanted me in London."

"She's not caught yet?"

"No'm. And I don't think as she will