gratified her passion, so long as he got
full satisfaction for his.

"No, nor any one else," said Dennis Brown severely. "He is a stranger."

"To you," replied Millie Splay, showing fight.

Harold Jupp advanced and planted himself firmly before her.

"Do you know him yourself, Lady Splay?" he asked.

"But of course I do," the poor lady exclaimed. "How absurd of you,
Harold, to ask such a question! I met him at a party when Joan and I
were in London at the beginning of this week." She caught again at her
fleeting courage. "So I invited him, and he's coming this afternoon. I
shall send the motor to meet him in an hour from now. So there's an end
of the matter."

Harold Jupp shook his head sagely.

"We must see that the plate is all locked up safely to-night."

"There! I knew it would be like this," cried Millie Splay, wringing her
hands. She remembered, from a war correspondent's article, that to
attack is the only successful defence. She turned on Jupp.

"I won't be bullied by you, Harold! He's a most charming person, with
really nice manners," she emphasised her praise of the absent guest,
"and if only you will study him whilst he is here--all of you, you will
be greatly improved at the end of your visit."

Harold Jupp was quite unimpressed by Millie Splay's outburst. He
remained severely in front of her, judge, prosecutor and jury all in
one, and all relentlessly against her.

"And what is his name?"

Lady Splay looked down and looked up.

"Mr. Albany Todd," she said.

"I don't like it," said Harold Jupp.

"No," added Dennis Brown sadly from a corner. "We can't like it, Lady
Splay."

Lady Splay turned with her most insinuating smile towards Brown.

"Oh, Dennis, do be nice and remember this isn't your house," she cried.
"You can be so unpleasant if you find any one here you don't like. Mr.
Albany Todd's quite a famous person."

Harold Jupp, of the inquiring mind, still stood looking down on Lady
Splay without any softening of his face.

"What for?" he asked.

Lady Splay groaned in despair.

"Oh, I was sure you were going to ask that. You are so unpleasant." She
put her hand to her forehead. "But I know quite well. Yes, I do." Her
face suddenly cleared. "He is a conversationalist--that's it--a great
conversationalist. He is the sort of man," she spoke as one repeating a
lesson, "who would have been welcome at the breakfast table of Mr.
Rogers."

"Rogers?" Harold Jupp asked sternly. "I don't k