Childe. "We've given up
showing it since the Suffragettes, but if you could give me a
reference----"

"Messrs. Salmon and Gluckstein," said I, "are my solicitors."

My lady pointed to a door at the end of the flagged passage in which we
stood.

"That'll take you into the hall," she said. "I'll come and find you when
I've seen the servants."

I saluted and broke away in the direction she had indicated.

* * * * *

There was a closet that opened out of the great gallery. No door hung in
the doorway and I could see china ranged orderly against the panelling
of the walls. I descended its two stairs, expecting to find it devoted
to china and nothing else. But I was wrong. Facing the window and the
sunshine was a facsimile of the tallboy chest which I had coveted so
fiercely two hours before.

I gazed at it spell-bound.

"It's very rude to stare," said a voice.

I turned to see Miss Childe framed in the doorway.

Her gown was of apricot, with the bodice cut low and the skirt gathered
in loops to show her white silk petticoat, which swelled from under a
flowered stomacher so monstrously, that the tiny blue-heeled slipper
upon the second stair seemed smaller than ever. Deep frills of lace fell
from her short sleeves and a little lace cap was set on her thick dark
hair.

I swallowed before replying. Then--

"It's a lovely chest," I said lamely.

"Picked wood," said Miss Childe. "Flogged once a week for years, that
tree was."

"Flogged?"

"Certainly."

Suddenly the air was full of music, and a jubilant chorus of voices was
singing lustily--

"_A woman, a spaniel, and a walnut-tree,
The more you beat them, the better they be._"

As the melody faded--

"I told you so," said Miss Childe. "What about the butter and eggs? Will
you pay for them, or shall I have them sent?"

I handed her the largest one pound note I have ever seen.

"Thanks," she said shortly. "Change at Earl's Court."

A peal of boy's laughter floated in at the open window.

"Who's that?" said I.

"Love," said Miss Childe. "The locksmiths are here, and he's laughing at
them. I think it's rather unkind myself. Besides----"

A burst of machine-gun fire interrupted her.

As the echoes died down--

"You smell of potpourri," said I.

"Probably. I made three bags full this morning. Bead bags. Do you mind
putting some coal on the fire? If there aren't any tongs, use the
telephone."

There was no firepla