ll don't understand the system of the corridor," she said, rising
a little belatedly to the occasion. "I _will_ come."

Sir Isaac regarded her for a moment with a dubious expression and then
began to explain the new method of building with large prepared units
and shaped pieces of reinforced concrete instead of separate bricks that
Messrs. Prothero & Cuthbertson had organized and which had enabled him
to create this artistic corridor so simply. It was a rather
uncomfortable three-cornered conversation. Sir Isaac addressed his
exposition exclusively to Mr. Brumley and Mr. Brumley made repeated
ineffectual attempts to bring Lady Harman, and Lady Harman made repeated
ineffectual attempts to bring herself, into a position in the
conversation.

Their eyes met, the glow of Mr. Brumley's declarations remained with
them, but neither dared risk any phrase that might arouse Sir Isaac's
suspicions or escape his acuteness. And when they had gone through the
new additions pretty thoroughly--the plumbers were still busy with the
barn bathroom--Sir Isaac asked Mr. Brumley if there was anything more he
would like to see. In the slight pause that ensued Lady Harman suggested
tea. But tea gave them no opportunity of resuming their interrupted
conversation, and as Sir Isaac's invincible determination to shadow his
visitor until he was well off the premises became more and more
unmistakable,--he made it quite ungraciously unmistakable,--Mr.
Brumley's inventiveness failed. One thing came to him suddenly, but it
led to nothing of any service to him.

"But I heard you were dangerously ill, Lady Harman!" he cried. "Lady
Beach-Mandarin called here----"

"But when?" asked Lady Harman, astonished over the tea-things.

"But you _know_ she called!" said Mr. Brumley and looked in affected
reproach at Sir Isaac.

"I've not been ill at all!"

"Sir Isaac told her."

"Told her I was ill!"

"Dangerously ill. That you couldn't bear to be disturbed."

"But _when_, Mr. Brumley?"

"Three days ago."

They both looked at Sir Isaac who was sitting on the music stool and
eating a piece of tea-cake with a preoccupied air. He swallowed and then
spoke thoughtfully--in a tone of detached observation. Nothing but a
slight reddening of the eyes betrayed any unusual feeling in him.

"It's my opinion," he said, "that that old lady--Lady Beach-Mandarin I
mean--doesn't know what she's saying half the time. She says--oh!
remarkable things. Saying _that_ fo