erstand you. Also, do not depend upon her to endorse
any claim you might set up based upon such assertions."

"She is an ungrateful baggage!"

"Possibly; but she is human, she has a memory--"

"Are you going to be sentimental about her again?" Mama Therese demanded.
"Pitiful old goat!"

"But I am not in the least sentimental," Papa Dupont disclaimed. "It is
rather I who am practical, you who are sentimental. I ask you: Is there any
way we can hold on to that money unless I marry Sofia? You do not answer.
Why? Because there _is_ no other way. Then I am practical. But you will not
admit that. And why? Because we have lived together for a number of years
through force of habit, because once, very long ago, we were lovers, you
and I--so long ago that you have forgotten you ever had a softer name for
me than pig or goat. Who is the sentimentalist now--eh?"

"Shut your face!" Mama Therese growled. "You annoy me. I have a
presentiment I shall one day murder you."

"You would have done that long ago," Papa Dupont pointed out, "if you had
had the courage. Enough! I am silent. But when you are tired trying to
think out another way, reflect on my solution. Meantime, let me have
another look at that accursed letter."

Mama Therese did not respond, she offered no objection when Dupont took up
the sheet of paper that lay between them, but ground the heels of her hands
into her fat cheeks and sat glowering vindictively while he read aloud,
slowly, with the labour of one to whom reading is unaccustomed dissipation:

DEAR MADAM:

Herewith we beg to enclose our cheque to your order in the sum of two
hundred and fifty pounds, being the quarterly payment in advance due you
from the estate of our deceased client, the Princess Sofia Vassilyevski,
for your care of her daughter. We further beg to advise that, pursuant to
the provisions of her will, we begin to-day, on the eighteenth birthday of
the young Princess Sofia, a search for her father with the object of
apprising him of his daughter's existence. Therefore we would request you
to make arrangements to have the young Princess Sofia brought to England
forthwith from the convent in France where we understand she is finishing
her education. We take leave, however, to advise that, pending the outcome
of our enquiries, the question of her father's existence be not discussed
with the young princess. In event of his death being established or of
failure to find him within six months, t