gentleman's nose
projected to a sharpened point, and that his thin-lipped mouth was all
awry and had a kind of habitual compression, the while that his eyes
sought eagerly for the other occupant of the car. She was unaccountably
invisible. Could it be that that hood really concealed her? Could it
be?...

The white-faced gentleman descended, relieved himself tediously of the
vast fur coat, handed it to Clarence and turned to the house.
Reverentially Clarence placed the coat within the automobile and closed
the door. Still the protesting mind of Mr. Brumley refused to
believe!...

He heard the house-door open and Mrs. Rabbit in colloquy with a flat
masculine voice. He heard his own name demanded and conceded. Then a
silence, not the faintest suggestion of a feminine rustle, and then the
sound of Mrs. Rabbit at the door-handle. Conviction stormed the last
fastness of the disappointed author's mind.

"Oh _damn_!" he shouted with extreme fervour.

He had never imagined it was possible that Sir Isaac could come alone.

Sec.4

But the house had to be let, and it had to be let to Sir Isaac Harman.
In another moment an amiable though distinguished man of letters was in
the hall interviewing the great _entrepreneur_.

The latter gentleman was perhaps three inches shorter than Mr. Brumley,
his hair was grey-shot brown, his face clean-shaven, his features had a
thin irregularity, and he was dressed in a neat brown suit with a
necktie very exactly matching it. "Sir Isaac Harman?" said Mr. Brumley
with a note of gratification.

"That's it," said Sir Isaac. He appeared to be nervous and a little out
of breath. "Come," he said, "just to look over it. Just to see it.
Probably too small, but if it doesn't put you out----"

He blew out the skin of his face about his mouth a little.

"Delighted to see you anyhow," said Mr. Brumley, filling the world of
unspoken things with singularly lurid curses.

"This. Nice little hall,--very," said Sir Isaac. "Pretty, that bit at
the end. Many rooms are there?"

Mr. Brumley answered inexactly and meditated a desperate resignation of
the whole job to Mrs. Rabbit. Then he made an effort and began to
explain.

"That clock," said Sir Isaac interrupting in the dining-room, "is a
fake."

Mr. Brumley made silent interrogations.

"Been there myself," said Sir Isaac. "They sell those brass fittings in
Ho'bun."

They went upstairs together. When Mr. Brumley wasn't explaining or
pointing