over the dying fire. The clock on the mantelpiece,
beside which Jill's photograph had stood pointed to ten minutes past
two. Derek spoke in a low, soft voice. Perhaps the doctors are right
after all, and two o'clock is the hour at which our self-esteem
deserts us, leaving in its place regret for past sins, good
resolutions for future behaviour.

"What do Martyn and the others say about ... you know?"

Freddie hesitated. Pity to start all that again.

"Oh, I know," went on Derek. "They say I behaved like a cad."

"Oh, well...."

"They are quite right. I did."

"Oh, I shouldn't say that, you know. Faults on both sides and all that
sort of rot."

"I did!" Derek stared into the fire. Scattered all over London at that
moment, probably a hundred Worshipful Dry-Salters were equally
sleepless and subdued, looking wide-eyed into black pasts. "Is it true
she has gone to America, Freddie?"

"She told me she was going."

"What a fool I've been!"

The clock ticked on through the silence. The fire sputtered faintly,
then gave a little wheeze, like a very old man. Derek rested his chin
on his hands, gazing into the ashes.

"I wish to God I could go over there and find her."

"Why don't you?"

"How can I? There may be an election coming on at any moment. I can't
stir."

Freddie leaped from his seat. The suddenness of the action sent a
red-hot corkscrew of pain through Derek's head.

"What the devil's the matter?" he demanded irritably. Even the gentle
mood which comes with convalescence after a City dinner is not
guaranteed to endure against this sort of thing.

"I've got an idea, old bean!"

"Well, there's no need to dance, is there?"

"I've nothing to keep me here, you know. What's the matter with my
popping over to America and finding Jill?" Freddie tramped the floor,
aglow. Each beat of his foot jarred Derek, but he made no complaint.

"Could you?" he asked eagerly.

"Of course I could. I was saying only the other day that I had half a
mind to buzz over. It's a wheeze! I'll get on the next boat and charge
over in the capacity of a jolly old ambassador. Have her back in no
time. Leave it to me, old thing! This is where I come out strong!"

CHAPTER IX

JILL IN SEARCH OF AN UNCLE

I

New York welcomed Jill, as she came out of the Pennsylvania Station in
Seventh Avenue, with a whirl of powdered snow that touched her cheek
like a kiss, the cold, bracing kiss one would expect from this vivid
city