ch have in so many years
increased out of all belief and now stand bristling between Impulse and
Action, and partly of the contrariness of women, which is, we know,
very ancient, but not so old as all that. It is these two marplots,
which you must bless or curse, gentlemen, as the fancy takes you.

Valerie French, then, was trying to bring Lyveden into smooth water.
She had already earmarked a congenial billet at The Shrubbery,
Hawthorne. The difficulty was to make Anthony apply for the post.
Since Mrs. Bumble could hardly be advised to ask a footman to quit the
service of the Marquess of Banff, Valerie, who was determined to remain
incognito, had recourse to the Press. Her advertisement for a
gentleman-footman appeared daily.

When my lady had drunk her tea, she turned to the telephone. After a
little delay, she was connected to the Dogs' Home in Hertfordshire.
Presently the superintendent spoke....

'Miss French's Irish terrier was not too grand. He was coughing a
little. There was no real cause for anxiety, but he was not out of the
wood.'

"I'll be down this afternoon," said Valerie.

She was as good as her word.

And since, to her grief, the little brown dog was nothing bettered, but
rather grew worse, she visited him the next day also and the day after
that.

And so it happened that she was at the Home on Friday, when Patch's
condition gave rise to such uneasiness as presently decided the
superintendent to telephone to his master. Indeed, the fair-haired
girl had discussed with Valerie the advisability of so doing.

"Mr. Lyveden's a busy man, I fancy, and we hate worrying people. But
he's simply devoted to the dog, and he's pretty bad."

"I think," said Valerie slowly, "I think he ought to be told."

"Perhaps you're right, Miss French," said the girl. "I'll go and ring
up."

She slipped out of the hospital, through the garden, and presently into
her office.

It was perhaps ten minutes before she could speak with London. Then--

"Is that Lord Banff's house?" she inquired.

"Yes. Who are you?" said an unpleasant voice.

"Oh, can I speak to Mr. Lyveden?"

"_Who?_"

"Mr. Lyveden."

An exclamation of surprise came to her ears.... Then an oath.... Then
a smothered laugh....

The girl frowned with impatience. At length--

"Hullo," said the voice.

"Can I speak to Mr. Lyveden?" she repeated.

"No, you can't. He's--he's out."

"Oh! Well, it's rather important. Could you give