oames abruptly.

"That we don't know. She'll swear to the fact, and she's got his
appearance pat."

Mr. Polteed took out a letter, and began reading:

"'Middle-aged, medium height, blue dittoes in afternoon, evening dress at
night, pale, dark hair, small dark moustache, flat cheeks, good chin,
grey eyes, small feet, guilty look....'"

Soames rose and went to the window. He stood there in sardonic fury.
Congenital idiot--spidery congenital idiot! Seven months at fifteen
pounds a week--to be tracked down as his own wife's lover! Guilty look!
He threw the window open.

"It's hot," he said, and came back to his seat.

Crossing his knees, he bent a supercilious glance on Mr. Polteed.

"I doubt if that's quite good enough," he said, drawling the words, "with
no name or address. I think you may let that lady have a rest, and take
up our friend 47 at this end." Whether Polteed had spotted him he could
not tell; but he had a mental vision of him in the midst of his cronies
dissolved in inextinguishable laughter. 'Guilty look!' Damnation!

Mr. Polteed said in a tone of urgency, almost of pathos: "I assure you we
have put it through sometimes on less than that. It's Paris, you know.
Attractive woman living alone. Why not risk it, sir? We might screw it
up a peg."

Soames had sudden insight. The fellow's professional zeal was stirred:
'Greatest triumph of my career; got a man his divorce through a visit to
his own wife's bedroom! Something to talk of there, when I retire!' And
for one wild moment he thought: 'Why not?' After all, hundreds of men of
medium height had small feet and a guilty look!

"I'm not authorised to take any risk!" he said shortly.

Mr. Polteed looked up.

"Pity," he said, "quite a pity! That other affair seemed very costive."

Soames rose.

"Never mind that. Please watch 47, and take care not to find a mare's
nest. Good-morning!"

Mr. Polteed's eye glinted at the words 'mare's nest!'

"Very good. You shall be kept informed."

And Soames was alone again. The spidery, dirty, ridiculous business!
Laying his arms on the table, he leaned his forehead on them. Full ten
minutes he rested thus, till a managing clerk roused him with the draft
prospectus of a new issue of shares, very desirable, in Manifold and
Topping's. That afternoon he left work early and made his way to the
Restaurant Bretagne. Only Madame Lamotte was in. Would Monsieur have
tea with her?

Soames bowed.