Berry, "but what does a cook look like, or
look least like, or least look like? I suppose you know what you mean."
Jill began to shake with laughter. "She'll probably be all dressed up to
give us a treat, and, for all we know, she may have a child with her,
and, if she's pretty, it's a hundred to one some fellow will be seeing
her off the boat. You can't rule out any one. And to accost strange
women indiscriminately is simply asking for trouble. Understand this:
when I've been knocked down twice, you can count me out."

This was too much for Jill, who made no further efforts to restrain her
merriment. Fixing her with a sorrowful look, my brother-in-law sank back
in his corner with a resigned air.

Jonah's telegram had certainly complicated matters.

We had received it too late to prevent the dispatch of the cook whose
services he had apparently enlisted. After a prolonged discussion we had
decided that, while Daphne must stay and interview Pauline Roper, the
rest of us had better proceed to Dover with the object of meeting the
boat. It was obvious that Jill must go to deal with the immigrant when
the latter had been identified, but she could not be expected to effect
the identification. I was unanimously chosen for this responsible task,
but I refused point-blank to make the attempt single-handed. I argued
with reason that it was more than one man could do, and that the
performance of what was, after all, a highly delicate operation must be
shared by Berry. After a titanic struggle the latter gave in, with the
result that Jill and he and I had left London by the eleven o'clock
train. This was due to arrive at Dover at two minutes to one, so that we
should have time for lunch and to spare before the boat came in.

But that was not all.

The coming of Jonah's _protegee_ made it impossible for my sister to
engage Pauline Roper out of hand. Of course the latter might prove
impossible, which, in a way, would simplify the position. If, as was
more probable, she seemed desirable, the only thing to do was to pay her
fare and promise to let her know within twenty-four hours whether we
would engage her or not. That would give us time to discover whether
Camille Francois was the more promising of the two.

Whatever happened, it was painfully clear that our engagement of a cook
was going to prove one of the most costly adventures of its kind upon
which we had ever embarked.

The train steamed into Dover one minute before its