he siren had the obscene and terrific note of a
gigantic hen in delirium. "What the devil's that?"

She received his question with the blank look of one whose mind had no
idea of the question's reason. The strangled gurgle and shriek from
without informed her in paroxysms of hideous sound. With a motion of her
body, as of one shaking off dreams, she threw away the be-musement in
which she had sat. She screwed up her face in torture. "Oh, _wow!_ Isn't
it too awful! That's Tony. In the car. I told him I'd look in here." She
glanced at the clock. "Marko; it's one o'clock. I've been here two
mortal hours!"

The gigantic hen screamed in delirious death agony.

"Oh, good heavens, that noise!" She stepped to the window and opened the
casement. "Tony! That noise! Tony, for goodness' sake!"

An extravagantly long motor car was drawn against the curb. Lord Tybar,
in a dust coat and a sleek bowler hat of silver grey, sat in the
driver's seat. He was industriously and without cessation winding the
handle of the siren. An uncommonly pretty woman sat beside him. She was
massed in furs. In her ears she held the index finger of each hand, her
elbows sticking out on each side of her head. Thus severally occupied,
she and Lord Tybar made an unusual picture, and a not inconsiderable
proportion of the youth and citizens of Tidborough stood round the front
of the car and enjoyed the unusual picture that they made.

The spectators looked up at Nona's call; Lord Tybar ceased the handle
and looked up with his engaging smile; the uncommonly pretty woman
removed her fingers from her ears and also turned upwards her uncommonly
pretty face.

"Hullo!" called Lord Tybar. "Did you happen to hear my sighs?"

"That appalling noise!" said Nona. "You ought to be prosecuted!"

"If you'd had it next to you!" piped the uncommonly pretty lady in an
uncommonly pretty voice. "It's like a whole ship being seasick
together."

"It's nothing of the kind," protested Lord Tybar. "It's the plaintive
lament of a husband entreating his wife." He directed his eyes further
backward. "Good morning, Mr. Fortune. Did you recognize my voice calling
my wife? There were tears in it. Perhaps you didn't."

"Good lord," said Sabre, "there's old Fortune at his window. I'll come
down with you, Nona."

As they went down he asked her, "Who's that with him in the car?"

"One of his friends. Staying with us."

Something in her voice made it--afterwards--occur to him as o