sorry, Sir
Tobias. Terry's lunching with me. We start in something less than
fifteen minutes."

Sir Tobias screwed himself round and surveyed his future son-in-law with
a mild amazement. For forty years he had been accustomed to having his
own way unchallenged. "Terry can wait." He spoke as though the matter
was now settled. "What I have to tell you is important."

"And so is what I have to tell Terry." Tabs emphasized his statement by
glancing again at his watch.

For a few seconds Sir Tobias was at a loss. To hear himself opposed was
a novel experience. Then he thought he had discovered a consoling
reason for this obstinacy and smiled loftily, as Shakespeare retired to
Stratford might have smiled at hearing himself reminded by Ann Hathaway
that he was not so great a man as London had imagined.

"Very well, my dear fellow," he conceded; "young blood will have its
way. I withdraw for this once, since your plans are already made."

His forgiveness was brushed aside. Time was pressing. Tabs forced him to
the point without further ceremony or waste of words. "When you phoned
yesterday evening it was nearly midnight, so the matter must have seemed
urgent. You said that General Braithwaite had been to see you on a
fool's errand, with a story that partly concerned myself. May I ask how
it concerned me?"

"You're brusque, very brusque," Sir Tobias complained. "We could have
talked this over much better at my club."

When Tabs showed no signs of relenting, he revealed his real feelings
testily. "You know this fellow Braithwaite. You must have recognized him
the moment you clapped eyes on him. Why didn't you tell me?"

Tabs looked up quickly, taken aback and slightly resentful at the
peremptory tones in which he was addressed. "It wasn't my business.
Apart from that, I was aware of nothing to his discredit." Once again as
in the case of Maisie, he was allowing himself to be goaded out of
justice into excessive generosity.

"Nothing to his discredit! That depends on your point of view." Sir
Tobias sniffed audibly. He could be as a rude as a spoilt child. "That
depends on how deeply interested you're in--in my daughter."

"I think I gave you proof of my interest, Sir Tobias, the other evening
when I asked----"

"Pshaw! You know very well what I'm driving at, Taborley."

"Nevertheless, I should like to hear you put it into words."

Sir Tobias gave one of his remarkable exhibitions of youthfulness.
Flinging aside his