myself again. 'Serve her jolly
well right.'

"He jumped up excitedly.

"'By Jove, Cay!' he cried. 'If I could! How? You must think of a way.

"I don't know if Beverley has told you about Mark's acting. He was an
amateur of all the arts, and vain of his little talents, but as an actor
he seemed to himself most wonderful. Certainly he had some ability for
the stage, so long as he had the stage to himself and was playing to an
admiring audience. As a professional actor in a small part he would have
been hopeless; as an amateur playing the leading part, he deserved all
that the local papers had ever said about him. And so the idea of giving
us a private performance, directed against a professional actress who
had made fun of him, appealed equally to his vanity and his desire for
retaliation. If he, Mark Ablett, by his wonderful acting could make Ruth
Norris look a fool in front of the others, could take her in, and then
join in the laugh at her afterwards, he would indeed have had a worthy
revenge!

"It strikes you as childish, Mr. Gillingham? Ah, you never knew Mark
Ablett.

"'How, Cay, how?' he said eagerly.

"'Well, I haven't really thought it out,' I protested. 'It was just an
idea.'

"He began to think it out for himself.

"'I might pretend to be a manager, come down to see her--but I suppose
she knows them all. What about an interviewer?'

"'It's going to be difficult,' I said thoughtfully. 'You've got rather a
characteristic face, you know. And your beard--'

"'I'd shave it off,' he snapped.

"'My dear Mark!'

"He looked away, and mumbled, 'I've been thinking of taking it off,
anyhow. And besides, if I'm going to do the thing, I'm going to do it
properly.'

"'Yes, you always were an artist,' I said, looking at him admiringly.

"He purred. To be called an artist was what he longed for most. Now I
knew that I had him.

"'All the same,' I went on, 'even without your beard and moustache you
might be recognizable. Unless, of course--' I broke off.

"'Unless what?'

"'You pretend to be Robert.' I began to laugh to myself again. 'By
Jove!' I said, 'that's not a bad idea. Pretend to be Robert, the wastrel
brother, and make yourself objectionable to Miss Norris. Borrow money
from her, and that sort of thing.'

"He looked at me, with his bright little eyes, nodding eagerly.

"'Robert,' he said. 'Yes. How shall we work it?'

"There was really a Robert, Mr. Gillingham, as I have no doubt you
and the I