you to waste any _more_
time."

"My mistake," said Mr. Prohack.

From mere malice and wickedness he spun out the business of dressing to
nearly its customary length, and twice Eve came uneasily into the
bedroom to see if she could be of assistance to him. No nurse could have
been so beautifully attentive. During one of her absences he slipped
furtively downstairs into the drawing-room, where he began to strum on
the piano, though the room was yet by no means properly warm. She came
after him, admirably pretending not to notice that he was behaving
unusually. She was attired for the street, and she carried his hat and
his thickest overcoat.

"You're coming out," said she, holding up the overcoat cajolingly.

"That's just where you're mistaken," said he.

"But I want to show you something."

"What do you want to show me?"

"You shall see when you come out."

"Is it by chance the bird of the mountains that I am to see?"

"The bird of the mountains? My dear Arthur! What are you driving at
now?"

"Is it the Eagle car?" And as she staggered speechless under the blow he
proceeded: "Ah! Did you think you could deceive _me_ with your infantile
conspiracies and your tacit deceits and your false smiles?"

She blushed.

"Some one's told you. And I do think it's a shame!"

"And who should have told me? Who have I seen? I suppose you think I
picked up the information at Putney last night. And haven't you opened
all my letters since I was ill, on the pretext of saving me worry? Shall
I tell you how I know? I knew from your face. Your face, my innocent,
can't be read like a book. It can be read like a newspaper placard, and
for days past I've seen on it, 'Extra special. Exciting purchase of a
motor-car by a cunning wife.'" Then he laughed. "No, chit. That fellow
Oswald Morfey, let it out last night."

When she had indignantly enquired how Oswald Morfey came to be mixed up
in her private matters, she said:

"Well, darling, I hope I needn't tell you that my _sole_ object was to
save you trouble. The car simply had to be bought, and as quickly as
possible, so I did it. Need I tell you--"

"You needn't, certainly," Mr. Prohack agreed, and going to the window he
lifted the curtain. Yes. There stood a real car, a landaulette, with the
illustrous eagle on the front of its radiator, and a real chauffeur by
its side. The thing seemed entirely miraculous to Mr. Prohack; and he
was rather impressed by his wife's daring and e