ng vessel safely through an intricate and
crowded channel at night.

Margaret noticed, too, that although Lady Maud was a very striking
figure, she was treated with respect in places where the singer knew
instinctively that if she herself had been alone she would have been
afraid that men would speak to her. She knew very well how to treat
them if they did, and was able to take care of herself if she chose
to travel alone; but she ran the risk of being annoyed where the
beautiful thoroughbred was in no danger at all. That was the
difference.

Lady Maud left her at her own door and went off on foot, though the
hansom that had brought them from the Baker Street Station was still
lurking near.

Margaret had told Logotheti to come and see her late in the afternoon,
and as she entered the hall she was surprised to hear voices upstairs.
She asked the servant who was waiting.

With infinite difficulty in the matter of pronunciation the man
informed her that the party consisted of Monsieur Logotheti, Herr
Schreiermeyer, Signor Stromboli, the Signorina Baci-Roventi, and
Fraeulein Ottilie Braun. The four professionals had come at the very
moment when Logotheti had gained admittance on the ground that he had
an appointment, which was true, and they had refused to be sent away.
In fact, unless he had called the police the poor footman could not
have kept them out. The Signorina Baci-Roventi alone, black-browed,
muscular, and five feet ten in her shoes, would have been almost a
match for him alone; but she was backed by Signor Pompeo Stromboli,
who weighed fifteen stone in his fur coat, was as broad as he was
long, and had been seen to run off the stage with Madame Bonanni
in his arms while he yelled a high G that could have been heard in
Westminster if the doors had been open. Before the onslaught of such
terrific foreigners a superior London footman could only protest with
dignity and hold the door open for them to pass. Braver men than
he had quailed before Schreiermeyer's stony eye, and gentle little
Fraeulein Ottilie slipped in like a swallow in the track of a storm.

Margaret felt suddenly inclined to shut herself up in her room
and send word that she had a headache and could not see them. But
Schreiermeyer was there. He would telephone for three doctors, and
would refuse to leave the house till they signed an assurance that she
was perfectly well and able to begin rehearsing the _Elisir d'Amore_
the next morning. That