t time where women are concerned."

He laughed as he produced some lobster in aspic and a chicken.

"It is jolly useful to have as a friend a butler in a big house," he
said. "I didn't know what Tomkinson had given me, but these
confections look all right."

Mrs. Devar's glance dwelt on the crest the instant she took a plate.
She smiled in her superior way. While Medenham was wrestling with the
cork of a bottle of claret she whispered:

"This is screamingly funny, Cynthia. I have solved the riddle at last.
Our chauffeur is using his master's car and his master's eatables as
well."

"Don't care a cent," said Cynthia, who found the lobster admirable.

"But if any inquiry is made and our names are mixed up in it, Mr.
Vanrenen may be angry."

"Father would be tickled to death. I shall insist on paying for
everything, of course, and my responsibility ends there. No, thank
you--" this to Medenham who was offering her a glass of wine. "I drink
water only. Have you any?"

Mrs. Devar took the wine, and Medenham fished in the basket for the
St. Galmier, since Lady St. Maur cultivated gout with her biliousness.

"Dear me!" she murmured after a sip.

"What is it now?" asked Cynthia.

"Perfect, my dear. Such a bouquet! I wonder what house it came from,"
and she pondered the crest again, but in vain, for heraldry is an
exact science, and the greater part of her education had been given by
a hard world. She did not fail, therefore, to notice that three
persons were catered for by the packer of the basket. An unknown upper
housemaid was already suspect, and now she added mentally "some
shop-girl friend." The climax was reached when Medenham staged the
strawberries. Cynthia, to whom the good things of the table were
commonplaces, ate them and was thankful, but Mrs. Devar made another
note: "Ten shillings a basket, at the very least; and _three
baskets_!"

A deep, booming yell from the mob proclaimed that the second race was
in progress.

"I can't see a thing unless I am perched on the seat, and if I stand
up I shall upset the crockery," announced Cynthia. "But I am not
interested yet awhile. If Grimalkin wins I shall shout myself hoarse."

"He hasn't a ghost of a chance," said Medenham.

"Oh, but he has. Mr. Deane told my father----"

"But Tomkinson told me," he interrupted.

"Tomkinson. Is that your butler friend?"

"Yes. He says the King's horse will win."

"Surely the owner of Grimalkin must know more about t