head against the leg of a bed, "I suppose
all this seems fairly rummy, but--"

"For the love of Mike!" said Miss Silverton.

The point seemed to Archie well taken and the comment on the situation
neatly expressed.

"What are you doing in my room?"

"Well, if it comes to that, you know--shouldn't have mentioned it if you
hadn't brought the subject up in the course of general chit-chat--what
are you doing in mine?"

"Yours?"

"Well, apparently there's been a bloomer of some species somewhere, but
this was the room I had last night," said Archie.

"But the desk-clerk said that he had asked you if it would be quite
satisfactory to you giving it up to me, and you said yes. I come here
every summer, when I'm not working, and I always have this room."

"By Jove! I remember now. The chappie did say something to me about the
room, but I was thinking of something else and it rather went over the
top. So that's what he was talking about, was it?"

Miss Silverton was frowning. A moving-picture director, scanning her
face, would have perceived that she was registering disappointment.

"Nothing breaks right for me in this darned world," she said,
regretfully. "When I caught sight of your leg sticking out from under
the bed, I did think that everything was all lined up for a real find
and, at last, I could close my eyes and see the thing in the papers.
On the front page, with photographs: 'Plucky Actress Captures Burglar.'
Darn it!"

"Fearfully sorry, you know!"

"I just needed something like that. I've got a Press-agent, and I
will say for him that he eats well and sleeps well and has just enough
intelligence to cash his monthly cheque without forgetting what he went
into the bank for, but outside of that you can take it from me he's not
one of the world's workers! He's about as much solid use to a girl with
aspirations as a pain in the lower ribs. It's three weeks since he got
me into print at all, and then the brightest thing he could think up was
that my favourite breakfast-fruit was an apple. Well, I ask you!"

"Rotten!" said Archie.

"I did think that for once my guardian angel had gone back to work
and was doing something for me. 'Stage Star and Midnight Marauder,'"
murmured Miss Silverton, wistfully. "'Footlight Favourite Foils Felon.'"

"Bit thick!" agreed Archie, sympathetically. "Well, you'll probably
be wanting to get to bed and all that sort of rot, so I may as well be
popping, what! Cheerio!"

A sudd