ings
for the Chief because he was my haven of refuge from a wicked world;
but that doesn't explain why you and Tims----"

"Your haven of refuge!" repeated Thompson, making a gulp of a
mouthful, and once more laying down his knife and fork, as he looked
across at her curiously.

"Before I went to the Ministry I had one or two rather beastly
experiences." She paused as if mentally reviewing some unpleasant
incident.

"Tell me, Gladys." Thompson was now all attention.

"Well, I once went to see a man in Shaftesbury Avenue who had
advertised for a secretary. He was a funny old bean," she added
reminiscently, "all eyes and no waist, and more curious as to
whether I lived alone, or with my people, than about my speeds. So I
told him my brother was a prize-fighter, and----"

"But you haven't got a brother," broke in Thompson.

"I told him that for the good of his soul, Tommy, and of the girls
who came after me," she added a little grimly.

"It was funny," she continued after a pause. "He didn't seem a bit
eager to engage me after that. Said my speeds (which I hadn't told
him) were not good enough; but to show there was no ill-feeling he
tried to kiss me at parting. So I boxed his ears, slung his own
inkpot at him and came away. Oh! it's a great game, Tommy, played
slow," she added as an after-thought, and she hummed a snatch of a
popular fox-trot.

"The swine!"

Thompson had just realised the significance of what he had heard.
There was an ugly look in his eyes.

"I then got a job at the Ministry of Economy and later at the
Ministry of Supply, and the Chief lifted me out by my bobbed hair
and put me into Department Z. That's why I call him my haven of
refuge. See, dearest?"

"What's the name of the fellow in Shaftesbury Avenue?" demanded
Thompson, his thoughts centring round the incident she had just
narrated.

"Naughty Tommy," she cried, making a face at "Mustn't get angry and
vicious. Besides," she added, "the Chief did for him."

"You told him?" cried Thompson incredulously, his interest still
keener than his appetite.

"I did," she replied airily, "and he dropped a hint at Scotland Yard.
I believe the gallant gentleman in Shaftesbury Avenue has something
more than a smack and an inky face to remember little Gladys by. He
doesn't advertise for secretaries now."

Thompson gazed at her, admiration in his eyes.

"But that doesn't explain why I always want to please the Chief,
does it?" she demanded. "In