ed. "The next time Millie Wyandotte telephones up to your
head, give her my love and tell her not to over-strain herself."

Things went from bad to worse, and after he had alluded to my backbone
as my Personal Column, any possibility of reconciliation seemed at an
end. I did not know then what a terribly determined person Hugo was.

Georgie Leghorn saw me home. I parted with him at the house, let myself
in by the area-gate, locking it after me, and so down the steps and into
the kitchen.

There I had just taken off my hair when I heard a shrill whistle in the
street outside. Hurriedly replacing my only beauty, I drew up the blind
and looked out. There, up above me on the pavement, was Hugo, stretching
away into the distance.

"Called for the reconciliation," he said. "Just open this area gate,
will you?"

"At this time of night?" I called, in a tense whisper. "Certainly not."

He stepped back, and in one leap jumped over the area-railings and down
on to the window-sill of the kitchen. The next moment he had flung the
window up, entered, and stood beside me.

"What do you think of that?" he said calmly.

"Hugo," I said, "I've known some bounders in my time, but not one who
could have done that."

We sat down and began discussing the Disestablishment of the Welsh
Church, when suddenly the area-gate was rattled and a stern voice
outside said "Police."

Instantly, Hugo concealed as much of himself as he could under the
kitchen table. There was no help for it. I had to let the policeman in,
or he would have roused the household.

"I'm just going to have a look in your kitchen," he said.

"No use," I replied. "The rabbit-pie was finished yesterday."

"Saucy puss, ain't you?" he said, as he entered.

"Well, you might be a sport and tell a girl what you're after."

"Cabman, driving past here a few minutes ago, saw a man jump the
area-railings and make a burglarious entry by the kitchen window."

"Is that all?" I said. "A man did enter that way a few minutes ago, but
it was not a burglar. It was Master Edward, Mrs. Pettifer's eldest son.
He'd lost his latch-key--he's always doing it--and that's how it
happened. He went straight upstairs to bed, or he'd confirm what I say."

"Went straight up to bed, did he? Did he take his legs off first? I
notice there's a pair of them sticking out from under the kitchen
table."

"Yes," I admitted, "I've told better lies in my time. Oh, Mr. Policeman,
don't be hard. I neve