removed the hand from my shoulder
and flourished it in a happy gesture.

"My fortune's made," he cried.

"But, my dear fellow," I asked, "why have you sprung this surprise on
us? I had no idea you were writing a novel."

He laughed. "No one had. Not even Doria. It was on her account I kept it
secret. I didn't want to arouse possible false hopes. It's very simple.
Besides, I like being a dark horse. It's exciting. Don't you remember
how paralysed you all were when I got my First at Cambridge? Everybody
thought I hadn't done a stroke of work--but I had sweated like mad all
the time."

This was quite true, the sudden brilliance of the end of Adrian's
University career had dazzled the whole of his acquaintance. Barbara,
impatient of retrospect, came to the all-important point.

"How does Doria take it?"

He turned on her and beamed. He was one of those dapper, slim-built men
who can turn with quick grace.

"She's as pleased as Punch. Gave it to old man Jornicroft to read and
insisted on his reading it. He's impressed. Never thought I had it in
me. Can't see, however, where the commercial value of it comes in."

"Wait till you show him your first thumping cheque," sympathised my
wife.

"I'm going to," he exclaimed boyishly. "I might have done it this
afternoon. Wittekind was off his head with delight and if I had asked
him to give me a bogus cheque for ten thousand to show to old man
Jornicroft, he would have written it without a murmur."

"How much did he really write a cheque for this afternoon?" I asked,
knowing (as I have said before) my Adrian.

Barbara looked shocked. "Hilary!" she remonstrated.

But Adrian laughed in high good humour. "He gave me a hundred pounds on
account."

"That won't impress Mr. Jornicroft at all," said I.

"It impressed my tailor, who cashed it, deducting a quarter of his
bill."

"Do you mean to say, my dear Adrian," I questioned, "that you went to
your tailor with a cheque for a hundred pounds and said, 'I want to pay
you a quarter of what I owe you, will you give me change?'"

"Of course."

"But why didn't you pass the cheque through your banking account and
post him your own cheque?"

"Did you ever hear such an innocent?" he cried gaily. "I wanted to
impress him, I did. One must do these things with an air. He stuffed my
pockets with notes and gold--there has never been any one so all over
money as I am at this particular minute--and then I gave him an order
for half