Fox-Moore was setting out to alleviate the lot
of the poor in Whitechapel.

'Even if it were not Friday,' Vida said slyly as her sister was
preparing to leave the house, 'you'd invent some errand to take you out
of the contaminated air of Queen Anne's Gate this afternoon.'

'Well, as I told you,' said the other woman, nervously, 'you ask that
person here on your own responsibility.'

Vida smiled. 'I'm obliged to ask people here if I want to see them
quietly. You make such a fuss when I suggest having a house of my own!'

Mrs. Fox-Moore ignored the alternative. 'You'll see you're only making
trouble for yourself. You'll have to pay handsomely for your curiosity.'

'Well, I've been rather economical of late. Maybe I'll be able "to
pay."'

'Don't imagine you'll be able to settle an account of that kind with a
single cheque. Give people like that an inch, and they'll expect a
weekly ell.'

'Are you afraid she'll abstract the spoons?'

'I'm not only afraid, I _know_ she won't be satisfied with one
contribution, or one visit. She'll regard it as the thin end of the
wedge--getting her nose into a house of this kind.' Irresistibly the
words conjured up a vision of some sharp-visaged female marauder
insinuating the tip of a very pointed nose between the great front door
and the lintel. 'I only hope,' the elder woman went on, 'that I won't be
here the first time Donald encounters your new friend on the doorstep.
_That's_ all!'

Wherewith she departed to succour women and children at long range in
the good old way. Little Doris was ill in bed. Mr. Fox-Moore was
understood to have joined his brother's coaching party. The time had
been discreetly chosen--the coast was indubitably clear. But would it
remain so?

To insure that it should, Miss Levering had a private conference with
the butler.

'Some one is coming to see me on business.'

'Yes, miss.'

'At half-past five.'

'Yes, miss.'

'I specially don't want to be interrupted.'

'No, miss.'

'Not by _any_body, no matter whom.'

'Very well, miss.' A slight pause. 'Shall I show the gentleman into the
drawing-room, miss?'

'It's not a gentleman, and I'll see her upstairs in my sitting-room.'

'Yes, miss. Very well, miss.'

'And don't forget--to _any_ one else I'm not at home.'

'No, miss. What name, miss?'

Vida hesitated. The servants nowadays read everything. 'Oh, you can't
make a mistake. She---- It will be a stranger--some one who has never
been h