Tube stick?"

George stared at her. "Then you were here," he gasped.

"All the time," said I. Margery broke into long laughter.

George regarded us darkly. "You two," he said.

"One hour and ten minutes," said I. "To say nothing of asking us both
on the same day."

"You two," said George.

"We two give you five minutes," I said. "Of these, three may be
conveniently occupied by your full and abject apology, and two by the
arranging of our next sittings. Then we two are going to lunch. It
is, ah, some time since we two breakfasted."

I made a careful note of Margery's sittings-to-be, as well as of my own.

As we were going: "You know, old chap," said I, "you've never
apologized."

"Miss Cicester knows that I am her humble servant."

"At any rate," said I, "there'll be the telegram."

Half-way down the stairs Margery turned and ran back to the studio.
When she came back, she was smiling.

"What new mischief...?" I began.

She turned to me with a maddening smile and opened her mouth. Then she
changed her mind and raised her eyebrows instead.

"This isn't fair," I said. "You can't ride with the herring and run
with the beagles too."

But she would not tell me. Neither would she let me give her lunch.

"But the telegram," said I desperately. "You might let me--"

"I don't suppose you have tea, but if you do happen to be in St.
James's Street about a quarter to five..."

That afternoon she showed me the wire. It was as follows:

"Thousand apologies housekeeper's sudden illness detained me just
learned my fool of servant misunderstood hasty instructions and refused
you admission another thousand apologies two thousand in all writing."
We thought it was rather good.

The next morning I glanced at the clock and pushed back my chair.

"I must be off," I murmured.

Jonah raised his eyes and then looked at Berry. The latter's eyes were
already raised. He had begun to sigh.

"What's the matter with you?" said I defiantly.

"One moment," said Berry. "My flesh is creeping. Now then. How many
more of these sittings?"

"Wednesdays be the last, I think."

"Which means that she's leaving Town on Thursday."

I looked at him sharply. Then:

"What d'you mean, 'She'" I said shortly.

"I have known you for--"

"Less of it," said I. "Much less."

"You know, old chap," said Daphne lazily, "you do seem suspiciously
keen about this portrait business, don't you?"

I looked at her. She