can be of any assistance, sir--"

"Thank you: no." I handed him the key of my bag, flung off coat and
waistcoat, and sat down to unlace my boots. "Your mistress is in the
drawing-room, I suppose, with her guests?"

"She is, sir."

"And Mr. Herbert?"

"Mr. 'Erbert was to have been 'ome by ten-thirty. He is--as you know,
sir--a little irregilar. But youth,"--William arranged my brushes
carefully--"youth must 'ave its fling. Oh, he's a caution!" A chuckle
escaped him; he checked it and was instantly demure. Almost, indeed, he
eyed me with a look of rebuke. "Anything more, sir?"

"Nothing more, thank you."

He withdrew. I thrust my feet into the dressing slippers he had set out
for me, and, dropping into an armchair, began to take stock of the
situation. "The one thing certain," I told myself, "is that Trewlove in
my absence has let my house. Therefore Trewlove is certainly an impudent
scoundrel, and any grand jury would bring in a true bill against him for a
swindler. My tenants are a lady whose servants may not reveal her name,
and a young man--her husband perhaps--described as 'a little irregilar.'
They are giving a large fancy-dress ball below--which seems to prove
that, at any rate, they don't fear publicity. And, further, although
entire strangers to me, they are expecting my arrival and have prepared a
room. Now, why?"

Here lay the real puzzle, and for some minutes I could make nothing of it.
Then I remembered my telegram. According to William it had been referred
back to the post office. But William on his own admission had but
retailed pantry gossip caught up from Mr. Horrex (presumably the butler).
Had the telegram been sent back _unopened?_ William's statement left this
in doubt. Now supposing these people to be in league with Trewlove, they
might have opened the telegram, and, finding to their consternation that I
was already on the road and an exposure inevitable, have ordered my room
to be prepared, trusting to throw themselves on my forgiveness, while
Trewlove lay a-hiding or fled from vengeance across the high seas.
Here was a possible explanation; but I will admit that it seemed, on
second thoughts, an unlikely one. An irate landlord, returning
unexpectedly and finding his house in possession of unauthorised
tenants--catching them, moreover, in the act of turning it upside-down
with a fancy-dress ball--would naturally begin to be nasty on the
doorstep. The idea of placating him