ed, "if you'll
keep yourself free to do anything I want you to do. I shouldn't want
anything very dreadful, of course," he added.

It was difficult for Michael to persuade Barnes that he was in earnest,
so difficult indeed that, even when he produced five sovereigns and
offered them directly to him, he had to disclose partially his reason
for wishing to go to Leppard Street.

"You see, I want to find a girl," he explained.

"Well, if you go and live in Leppard Street you'll lose the best girl
you've got straight off. That's all there is to it."

"You don't understand. This girl I used to know has gone wrong, and I
want to find her and marry her."

It seemed to Michael that Barnes' manner changed in some scarcely
definable way when he made this announcement. He pocketed the five
pounds and invited Michael to come to Leppard Street whenever he liked.
He was evidently no longer suspicious of his sincerity, and a perky, an
almost cunning cordiality had replaced the disheartened cynicism of his
former attitude. It encouraged Michael to see how obviously his resolve
had impressed Barnes. He accepted it as an augury of good hap.
Involuntarily he waited for his praise; and when Barnes made no allusion
to the merit of his action, he ascribed his silence to emotion. This was
proving really a most delightful example of the truth of his theory. And
it was clever of Barnes--it was more than clever, it was truly
imaginative of him--to realize without another question the need to
leave for a while Cheyne Walk.

"But is there a vacant room?" Michael asked in sudden dread of
disappointment.

"Look here, you'd better see the place before you decide on leaving
here," Barnes advised. "It isn't a cross between Buckingham Palace and
the Carlton, you know."

"I suppose it's the name that attracts me," said Michael. "It sounds
ferocious."

"I don't know about the name, but old Ma Cleghorne who keeps the house
is ferocious enough. Never mind." He jingled the five sovereigns.

"I'll go up and pack," said Michael. "By the way, I haven't told you yet
that I was run in last night."

"In quod you mean?" asked Barnes. "Whatever for?"

"Drunk and disorderly in Leicester Square."

"These coppers are the limit," said Barnes emphatically. "The absolute
limit. Really. They'll pinch the Archbishop of Canterbury for looking
into Stagg and Mantle's window before we know where we are."

Michael left Barnes in the drawing-room, and as he turn