murmured, and to the laces they
turned their steps.

Miss Falconer was still bargaining. She was a middle aged lady,
Roman nosed and sandy-haired, and she brought to Billy in a rush the
realization that she was "sister" and the girl was Lady Claire
Montfort. The story of the encounter and Billy's hero part, related
by Lady Claire, appeared most disturbing to the chaperon.

"How awkward--how very awkward," she murmured, several times, and
Billy gathered from her covert glance upon him that part of the
awkwardness consisted in being saddled with his acquaintance. Then,
"Very nice of you, I'm sure," she added. "I hope the creature isn't
lingering about somewhere.... We'd better take a cab, Claire--I'm
sure we're late for tea."

"Let me find one," said Billy dutifully, and charging into the
medley of vehicles he brought forth a victoria with what appeared to
be the least villainous looking driver and handed in the ladies.

"Savoy Hotel, isn't it?" he added thoughtlessly, and both ladies'
countenances interrogated him with a varying _nuance_ of question.

"I remember noticing you," he hastily explained. "I'm not exactly a
private detective, you know,"--the assurance seemed to leave Miss
Falconer cold--"but I do remember people. And then I heard you
spoken of by Miss Beecher."

The name acted curiously upon them. They looked at each other. Then
they looked at Billy. Miss Falconer spoke.

"Perhaps we can drop you at your hotel," said she. "Won't you get
in?"

He got in, facing them a little ruefully with his damaged
countenance, and subtly aware that this accession of friendliness
was not a gush of airy impulse.

"You know Miss Beecher then?" said Miss Falconer with brisk
directness.

"Slightly," he said aloud. To himself he added, "So far."

"Ah--in America?"

"No, in Cairo."

Miss Falconer looked disappointed. "But perhaps you know her
family?"

"No," said Billy. He added humorously, "But I'll wager I could guess
them all right."

"Can you Americans do that for one another? That is more than we can
venture to do for you," said the lady, and Billy was aware of irony.

"We know so little about your life, you see," the girl softened it
for him, with a direct and friendly smile, and then gazed watchfully
at her chaperon. She was a nice girl, Billy decided emphatically.

"How would you construct her family?" was the elder lady's next
demand.

"Oh, big people in a small town," he hazarded carelessly. "Th