and
perhaps a foot ajar. Pennell pushed it wide and walked in. "Come on," he
said again. Peter followed reluctantly, but curious. He was seeing a new
side of life, he thought grimly.

Before them a flight of stairs led straight up to a landing, but there
was no sign of the girls. "What's next?" demanded Peter. "We'll be fired
out in two twos if nothing worse happens. Suppose they're decent girls
after all; what would you say?"

"I'd ask if Mlle. Lucienne lived here," said Pennell, "and apologise
profusely when I found she didn't. But you can't make a mistake in this
street, Graham. I'm going up. It's the obvious thing, and probably what
they wanted. Coming?"

He set off to mount the stairs, and Peter, reassured, followed him, at a
few paces. When he reached the top, Pennell was already entering an open
door.

"How do you do, ma cherie?" said one of the girls, smiling, and holding
out a hand.

Peter looked round curiously. The room was fairly decently furnished in a
foreign middle-class fashion, half bedroom, half sitting-room. One of the
girls sat on the arm of a big chair, the other was greeting his friend.
She was the one he had fancied, but a quick glance attracted Peter
to the other and elder. He was in for it now, and he was determined to
play up. He crossed the floor, and smiled down at the girl on the arm of
the chair.

"So you 'ave come," she said in broken English. "I told Lucienne that you
would not."

"Lucienne!" exclaimed Peter, and looked back at Pennell.

That traitor laughed, and seated himself on the edge of the bed, drawing
the other girl to him. "I'm awfully sorry, Graham," he said; "but I
couldn't help it. You wanted to see life, and you'd have shied off if I
hadn't played a game. I do just know this little girl, and jolly nice she
is too. Give me a kiss, Lulu."

The girl obeyed, her eyes sparkling. "It's not proper before monsieur,"
she said. "'E is--how do you say?--shocked?"

She seated herself on Pennell's knee, and, putting an arm round his neck,
kissed him again, looking across at Peter mischievously. "We show 'im
French kiss," she added to Pennell, and pouted out her lips to his.

"Well, now you 'ave come, what do you want?" demanded the girl on the arm
of Peter's chair. "Sit down," she said imperiously, patting the seat,
"and talk to me."

Peter laughed more lightly than he felt. "Well, I want a drink," he said,
at random. "Pen," he called across the room, "what about that dri