at him like spectacles. But there was something that he missed.

The driver had climbed down and was opening the door. "Mulberry Tree
Court, mister. I forget which number you told me; but there ain't so
much of it that you're likely to lose yourself."

"But where's the mulberry tree?" Tabs asked. There was in his voice the
discontent of a disappointed child.

"There never was no mulberry tree," the man replied in all seriousness.

"Well, if there isn't a mulberry tree," Tabs laughed, "I suppose we must
make shift to do without it."

The man frowned and justified himself grumblingly. "It ain't my bloomin'
fault. I've done nothin' with yer bloomin' tree."

"I suppose not," said Tabs as if the matter were still in doubt.

Feeling in his pocket he paid what was owing and watched the cab move
off. Even at this last moment he was half-minded to retreat. What
business was it of his to interfere in another man's love-affair? He
looked stealthily round the Court to see if eyes were watching. All the
windows were empty; nothing stirred. The fact that he was not watched
reassured him. He glanced at the number on the nearest door, discovered
in which direction the numbers ran and decided that his must be the
house conspicuous for its marigold-tinted curtains, standing retiringly
in the farthest corner.

Once again he hesitated. Should he or should he not? The old
nursery-rhyme came wandering into his head with its innocent lilt of
jolliness:

"Here we go round the mulberry-bush,
The mulberry-bush, the mulberry-bush;
Here we go round the mulberry-bush,
So early in the morning."

"And so we do," he murmured. "Let's take a chance."

II

The door--an apple-green door--was opened by a maid as trim as Ann. Was
Mrs. Lockwood in? She would enquire. "And your name, please, sir?--Lord
Taborley! Certainly."

She left him waiting in the hall, while she went to make her fictional
enquiries. He was as sure that they were fictional as if he had glanced
into the room upstairs where Maisie was making a last anxious inspection
before her mirror. So the pretense was to be that he had called casually
and had scarcely been expected.

He tried to learn something of Maisie from the appearance of her hall.
It was speckless. Everything in it shone with intense cleanliness and
polish. He had noticed the same gleam about the windows, brasses and
very doorstep before he had entered. He had noticed it again about the
maid who h