man heiress, of an age not unsuited to his own.
Her father, Herr Goldstein, lived in some little Rhine town, and was
supposed to be rolling in marks (that was six or seven years before the
war); however, the Goldsteins met Lord Scarlett not in Germany but at
Monte Carlo, where Papa G. was a well-known punter. Luck went wrong with
him, and later the war came. Altogether, the marriage had failed to
accomplish for Bertie Scarlett's pocket and his place what he had hoped
from it. And apparently the one appreciable result was a little boy,
half of German blood. There were hopes that, after the war, Herr
Goldstein's business might rise again to something like its old value,
in which case his daughter would reap the benefit. Meanwhile, however,
if Grandmother was right, things were at a low ebb; and I thought that
Lord Scarlett would most likely snap at an offer for Dun Moat.

Terry was immensely cheered by my story and opinion. But such a
ready-made solution of the difficulty seemed too good to be true. He got
our advertisement, and read it out to me, pausing at each detail of
perfection which we had light-heartedly bestowed upon our moated grange.
"The twisted chimney and the moat aren't everything," he groaned. "Carp
and water-lilies we might supply, if they don't exist; peacocks, too.
Nearly all historic English houses are what the agents call 'rich in old
oak.' But what about those 'exquisite oriels,' those famous fireplaces,
those stairways, those celebrated ceilings, and corbels--whatever they
are? No one house, outside our brains, can have them _all_. If
anything's missing in the list she'll cry off, and call T. B. a fraud."

"She'll only remember the most exciting things," I said. "I don't see
her walking round the house with the 'ad.' in her hand, do you? She'll
be captured by the _tout ensemble_. But the first thing is to catch our
hare--I mean our house. You 'phone to the companion, Mrs. Dobell, at
once. Say that before you got her letter you'd practically given the
refusal of your place to someone else, but that you met the Princess
Avalesco years ago, and would prefer to have her as your tenant, if she
cares to leave the matter open for a few days. She'll say 'yes' like a
shot. And meanwhile, I'll be inquiring the state of affairs at Dun
Moat."

"How can you inquire without going there, and wasting a day, when we
might be getting hold of another place, perhaps, and--and _building_ a
twisted chimney to match the