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't time," I pleaded. "We got on to scent almost at once." "Why scent?" said Jonah. "Or is that an indiscreet question?" "Oh, that's easy," said Berry. "The scent was on the handkerchief he picked up. It's been done before." "I don't understand," said Jill. "I'm glad you don't, darling. One expert in the family is bad enough." He nodded at me. "I used to think I was useful, till I'd seen that Mormon at work. Talk about getting off.... Why, he'd click at a jumble sale." "Would he really?" said Adele interestedly. "I'd no idea he was so enterprising." Berry shrugged his shoulders. "My dear," he said, "he's a blinkin' marvel. Where you and I 'ld be standing outside a stage-door with a nervous grin and a bag of jujubes, he'd walk straight up TO a Marchioness, say, 'I feel I must tell you that you've got a mouth in a million,' and--_get away with it_. But there you are. In the present case----" "--for once in a way," said Adele, "the lady seems to have made the running." She turned to me with a smile. "Well, Juan me lad, tell us some more about her. Was she fair or dark?" I nodded at Berry. "Better ask him," I said. "He knows more about it than I do." "She was dark," said Berry unhesitatingly. "A tall willowy wench, with Continental eyes and an everlasting pout. Am I right, sir?" "You may be," said I. "Not having seen the damsel...." There was an outburst of incredulous objection. "Sorry," I added, "but the liaison was conducted upon the telephone. Just now. When I ordered the paper. The lady had no idea she was giving me counsel. So, you see, we're both blameless. And now may I have a match?" "Well, I am disappointed," announced Adele. "I quite thought we were off." "So did I," said Daphne. "And you never even---- Oh, it's spoiled my tea." Even Jill protested that I had "led them on." In some dudgeon, I began to wonder if I should ever understand women. * * * * * An hour and a half had slipped by. Ready for dinner with twenty minutes to spare, I had descended to the lounge. There a large writing-table had suggested the propriety of sending a postcard to the sweetest of aunts, who, in the absence of evidence to the contrary, invariably presumed our death after fourteen days. There being no postcards available, I started a letter.... For a page and a half my pen ran easily enough, and then, for no reason whatever, my epis
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