ure hand;
and he had carefully built up the characters in true proportion to one
another and to their respective significance in the action.

Should all this then, be garbled and distorted to satisfy a woman's
passion for the centre of the stage? Must he be untrue to the
fundamentals of dramaturgic art in order to earn her tolerance? Could
he gain his own consent to present to the public as work representative
of his fancy the misshapen monstrosity which would inevitably result of
yielding to Alison's insistence?

Small wonder that he sighed and wagged a doleful head!

Now while all this was passing through a mind wrapped in gloomy and
profound abstraction, Iff's voice disturbed him.

"Pity the poor playwright!" it said in accents of amusement.

Looking up, Staff discovered that the little man stood before him, a
furtive twinkle in his pale blue eyes. The bridge game had broken up,
and they two were now alone in the smoking-room--saving the presence of
a steward yawning sleepily and wishing to 'Eaven they'd turn in and give
'im a charnce to snatch a wink o' sleep.

"Hello," said Staff, none too cordially. "What d' you mean by that?"

"Hello," responded Iff, dropping upon the cushioned seat beside him. He
snapped his fingers at the steward. "Give it a name," said he.

Staff gave it a name. "You don't answer me," he persisted. "Why pity the
poor playwright?"

"He has his troubles," quoth Mr. Iff cheerfully, if vaguely. "Need I
enumerate them, to you? Anyway, if the poor playwright isn't to be
pitied, what right 've you got to stick round here looking like that?"

"Oh!" Staff laughed uneasily. "I was thinking...."

"I flattered you to the extent of surmising as much." Iff elevated one
of the glasses which had just been put before them. "Chin-chin," said
he--"that is, if you've no particular objection to chin-chinning with a
putative criminal of the d'p'st dye?"

"None whatever," returned Staff, lifting his own glass--"at least, not
so long as it affords me continued opportunity to watch him cooking up
his cunning little crimes."

"Ah!" cried Iff with enthusiasm--"there spoke the true spirit of
Sociological Research. Long may you rave!"

He set down an empty glass.

Staff laughed, sufficiently diverted to forget his troubles for the time
being.

"I wish I could make you out," he said slowly, eyeing the older man.

"You mean you hope I'm not going to take you in."

"Either way--or both: please yourself.