ot boast even _The Anti-Vaccination Record_,
you were driven along a dirtier passage into a dirtiest room whose
windows were obscured by generations of filth, and in that room sat a
spick and span lawyer of great name who was probably an ex-president of
the Incorporated Law Society. The offices of Smathe and Smathe
corresponded with alarming closeness to Mr. Prohack's idea of what a
bucket-shop might be. Mr. Prohack had the gravest fears for his hundred
thousand pounds.

"This is the solicitor's office new style," said Bishop, who seemed to
have an uncanny gift of reading thoughts. "Very big firm.
Anglo-American. Smathe and Smathe are two cousins. Percy's American.
English mother. They specialise in what I may call the international
complication business, pleasant and unpleasant."

Mr. Prohack was not appreciably reassured. Then a dapper, youngish man
with a carnation in his buttonhole stepped neatly into the room, and
greeted Bishop in a marked American accent.

"Here I am again," said Bishop curtly. "Mr. Prohack, may I introduce Mr.
Percy Smathe?"

"Mr. Prohack, I'm delighted to make your acquaintance."

Mr. Prohack beheld the lawyer's candid, honest face, heard his tones of
extreme deference, and noted that he had come to the enquiry room to
fetch his clients.

"There's only one explanation of this," said Mr. Prohack to himself.
"I'm a genuinely wealthy person."

And in Mr. Percy Smathe's private room he listened but carelessly to a
long legal recital. Details did not interest him. He knew he was all
right.

CHAPTER IV

EVE'S HEADACHE

I

That afternoon Mr. Prohack just got back to his bank before closing
time. He had negligently declined to comprehend a very discreet hint
from Mr. Percy Smathe that if he desired ready money he could have
it--in bulk. Nevertheless he did desire to feel more money than usual in
his pocket, and he satisfied this desire at the bank, where the
September quarter of his annual salary lay almost intact. His bank was
near Hanover Square, a situation inconvenient for him, but he had chosen
that particular branch because its manager happened to be a friend of
his. The Prohack account did no good to the manager personally, and only
infinitesimal good to the vast corporation of which the branch-manager
was the well-dressed, well-spoken serf. The corporation was a sort of
sponge prodigiously absorbent but incapable of being squeezed. The
manager could not be of the slighte