and her voice had not yet recovered entire
steadiness.

"I have told you that he is not a magician, Flamby, but you have still
to tell me why you wanted to see Orlando James."

"I don't believe I can tell you, after all." Flamby had twisted the
little handkerchief into a rope and was tugging at it desperately.

"Why?"

"Well--I might be wrong, and then I should never forgive myself. It is
something you ought to know, but I can see now that I cannot tell you."

Don very deliberately took up his pipe from the table. "Here's an
ash-tray," said Flamby in a faint voice. "Shall we go out to tea and see
if we can cheer ourselves up a bit?"

"I think we might," replied Don, smiling in almost the old way. "Some
place where there is a band."

* * * * *

As a direct result of this conversation, Paul received a letter two days
later from Don. It touched whimsically upon many matters, and finally,
"I have decided to add Orlando James to my list of undesirable
acquaintances," wrote Don. "Don't let this harsh decision influence your
own conduct in any way, but if at any time you chance to go walking with
him and meet myself, pardon me if I fail to acknowledge either of you."

Paul read this paragraph many times. He received the letter one morning
whilst Yvonne was out, she having gone into the neighbouring village,
and when she came back he spoke of it to her. "Have you seen anything
of Orlando James recently?" he asked.

Yvonne turned and began to arrange some fresh flowers in a bowl upon the
cottage window-ledge. "No," she replied. "I have seen him rarely since
the portrait was finished. Why?"

"I was merely wondering. He seems to be establishing a queer sort of
reputation. Thessaly has thrown out hints more than once and Don quite
frankly dislikes him."

"What kind of reputation, Paul?"

"Oh, the wrong kind for a portrait painter," replied Paul lightly. "I
shall send him a cheque for the picture."

"But he has refused to accept any payment whatever."

"It was very flattering on his part to declare that its exhibition was
worth so much to him, and to decline a fee, but nevertheless I shall
send him a cheque to-night. Did you remember to go to the Post Office?"

"Yes." Yvonne turned slowly. "Here are the stamps."

"I can see," said Paul, "that either I must return to London or have
Edwards come down here and put up somewhere in the neighbourhood. I have
more work than I can handle