with the impulsive gesture of an artist; then,
with the caution of a man of the world, gathered them in again.

"The whole circumstances under which the alleged option is alleged to
have been given would have to be examined," said Mr. Slosson.

"I shan't mind," said Edward Henry. "Others might."

"There is such a thing as undue influence."

"Miss Euclid is fifty if she's a day," replied Edward Henry.

"I don't see what Miss Euclid's age has to do with the matter."

"Then your eyesight must be defective, Mr. Slosson."

"The document might be a forgery."

"It might. But I've got an autograph letter written entirely in the
late Lord Woldo's hand, enclosing the option."

"Let me see it, please."

"Certainly--but in a court of law," said Edward Henry. "You know
you're hungry for a good action, followed by a bill of costs as long
as from here to Jericho."

"Mr. Wrissell will assuredly fight," said Mr. Slosson. "He has already
given me the most explicit instructions. Mr. Wrissell's objection to a
certain class of theatres is well known."

"And does Mr. Wrissell settle everything?"

"Mr. Wrissell and Lady Woldo settle everything between them, and Lady
Woldo is guided by Mr. Wrissell. There is an impression abroad that
because Lady Woldo was originally connected--er--with the stage, she
and Mr. Wrissell are not entirely at one in the conduct of her and her
son's interests. Nothing could be further from the fact."

Edward Henry's thoughts dwelt for a few moments upon the late Lord
Woldo's picturesque and far-resounding marriage.

"Can you give me Lady Woldo's address?"

"I can't," said Mr. Slosson, after an instant's hesitation.

"You mean you won't!"

Mr. Slosson pursed his lips.

"Well, you can do the other thing!" said Edward Henry, insolent to the
last.

As he left the premises he found Mr. Rollo Wrissell, and his own new
acquaintance, Mr. Alloyd, the architect, chatting in the portico. Mr.
Wrissell was calm, bland and attentive; Mr. Alloyd was eager, excited
and deferential.

Edward Henry caught the words "Russian Ballet." He reflected upon an
abstract question oddly disconnected with the violent welter of his
sensations: "Can a man be a good practical architect who isn't able to
sleep because he's seen a Russian Ballet?"

The alert chauffeur of the electric brougham, who had an excellent
idea of effect, brought the admirable vehicle to the kerb exactly
in front of Edward Henry as Edward Henry re