of the library, just above the type-writer, I shall smile
down upon your misshapen head a peaceful, forgiving smile. What a
thought! And you will look UP from your London Mail and--"

"Don't," said Berry, emitting a hollow groan. "I am unworthy.
Unworthy." He covered his face with his hands. "Where is the Indian
Club?" he added brokenly, "I don't mean the one in Whitehall Court.
The jagged one with nails in it. I would beat my breast. Unworthy."

"Conundrum," said Jonah. "Where were the worthy worthies worthy?"

"I know," said I. "They were worthy where they were."

"Where the blaze is," said Berry.

"The right answer," said Jonah, "is Eastbourne."

Daphne turned to Jill. "Is the trick-cycle ready, dear? We're on
next, you know."

Here a servant came in and announced that a picture had come for me.
We poured into the hall. Yes, it had come. In the charge of two
messenger-boys and a taxi, carefully shrouded in sackcloth. Berry
touched the latter and nodded approval. Then he turned to the boys.

"Are there no ashes?" he said.

We bore it into the dining-room and set it upon a chair by the side of
a window. I took out my knife and proceeded to cut the string.

"Wait a moment," said Jonah. "Where's the police-whistle?"

"It's all right," said Berry. "James has gone for the divisional
surgeon."

I pulled off the veil. It was really a speaking likeness of Margery.

Two hours later the telephone went. I picked up the receiver. "Is
that six-o-four-o-six Mayfair?"--excitedly.

Margery's voice.

"It is," said I.

"Oh, is that you?"

"It is."

"Oh, d'you know, the most awful thing has happened."

"I know," I said heavily.

"Then you have got mine?"

"Yes."

"I suppose you guessed I've got yours?"

"You don't sound very sympathetic,"--aggrievedly.

"My dear, I'm--"

"You don't know what I've been through."

This tearfully.

"Don't I?" I said wearily.

CHAPTER VIII

THE BUSY BEERS

"They never sting some people," said Daphne.

"Perhaps," said I, "perhaps that is because they never get the chance.
It doesn't offer, as they say."

"Oh, yes, they do. They simply don't sting them."

"'M. During Lent, I suppose?" I murmured drowsily. A May afternoon
can be pleasantly hot.

"It's a sort of power they have," said Daphne mercilessly.

I opened my eyes. "The bees? It's a very offensive power."

"No, Boy, the people. They simply swarm all over some persons,