clothes, and that he was now daring to affront Melchizidek,--this sole
fact separated him from the ruck of sons.

"I warn you, dad, that if you're ordering clothes here you're ordering
trouble."

Mr. Melchizidek's interjected remarks fitted to the occasion. The group
dissipated. The males of the Prohack family could say nothing
interesting to each other in such a situation. They could only pretend
that their relations were purely normal; which they did quite well.

"I say, dad, I'm awfully busy this morning. I can't stop now. I've
telephoned the mater and she's coming to the Grand Babylon for
lunch--one thirty. Sis too, I think. Do come. You haven't got anything
else to do." The boy murmured all this.

"Oh! Haven't I! I'm just as busy as you are, and more."

However, Mr. Prohack accepted the invitation. Charlie went off in haste.
Mr. Prohack arrived on the pavement in time to see him departing in an
open semi-racing car driven by a mature, handsome and elegant woman,
with a chauffeur sitting behind. Mr. Prohack's mind was one immense
interrogation concerning his son. He had seen him, spoken with him,
and--owing to the peculiar circumstances--learnt nothing whatever.
Indeed, the mystery of Charlie was deepened. Had Charles hurried away in
order to hide the mature handsome lady from his father?... Mr. Prohack
might have moralised, but he suddenly remembered that he had a lady in
his own car, and that the disparity between their ages was no less than
the disparity between the ages of the occupants of the car in which
Charles had fled.

III

Turning to his own car, he observed with a momentary astonishment that
Carthew, the chauffeur, leaning a little nonchalantly through the open
off-window of the vehicle, was engaged in conversation with Miss
Winstock. The astonishment passed when he reflected that as these two
had been in the enforced intimacy of an accident together they were
necessarily on some kind of speaking terms. Before Carthew had noticed
Mr. Prohack, Mr. Prohack noticed that Carthew's attitude to Miss
Winstock showed a certain tolerant condescension, while Miss Winstock's
girlish gestures were of a subtly appealing nature. Then in an instant
Carthew, the easy male tolerator of inaccurate but charming young women,
disappeared from the window--disappeared indeed, entirely from the face
of the earth--and a perfectly non-human, impassive automaton emerged
from behind the back of the car and stood attentive