and her lips a curl. But when
she saw Arnold, a wonderful smile transformed her face. She was in
the middle of the clerk's office, the cynosure of twenty-four
staring eyes, but she dropped her gown and held out both her
delicately gloved hands. The fall of her skirts seemed to shake out
strange perfumes into the stuffy room.

"Ah! you are really here, then, in this odious gloom? You will show
me where I can find my husband?"

Arnold stepped back and threw open the door of the inner office. She
laughed into his face.

"Do not go away," she ordered. "Come in with me. I want to thank you
for looking after me the other day."

Arnold murmured a few words of excuse and turned away. Mr. Tidey
Junior carefully arranged his necktie and slipped down from his
stool.

"Jarvis," he exclaimed, "a free lunch and my lifetime's gratitude if
you'll send me into the governor's office on any pretext whatever!"

Mr. Jarvis, who was answering the telephone, took off his
gold-rimmed spectacles and wiped them.

"Some one must go in and say that Mr. Burland, of Harris & Burland,
wishes to know at what time he can see the governor. I think you had
better let Chetwode go, though."

The young man turned away, humming a tune.

"Not I!" he replied. "Don't be surprised, you fellows, if I am not
out just yet. The governor's certain to introduce me."

He knocked at the door confidently and disappeared. In a very few
seconds he was out again. His appearance was not altogether
indicative of conquest.

"Governor says Burland can go to the devil, or words to that
effect," he announced, ill-naturedly. "Chetwode, you're to take in
the private cheque book.... I tell you what, Jarvis," he added,
slowly resuming his stool, "the governor's not himself these days.
The least he could have done would have been to introduce me,
especially as he's been up at our place so often. Rotten form, I
call it. Anyway, she's not nearly so good-looking close to."

Mr. Jarvis proceeded to inform the inquirer through the telephone
that Mr. Weatherley was unfortunately not to be found at the moment.
Arnold, with Mr. Weatherley's cheque book in his hand, knocked at
the door of the private office and closed the door carefully behind
him. As he stood upon the threshold, his heart gave a sudden leap.
Mr. Weatherley was sitting in his accustomed chair, but his attitude
and expression were alike unusual. He was like a man shrinking under
the whip. And Fenella--he was q