his genius and his person fatally attractive. Dymes had the
little weaknesses of the artistic temperament.

As usual, Mrs. Rayner Mann's concert was well attended, and Alma's
violin solo, though an audience more critical than she had yet faced
made her very nervous to begin with, received much applause. Felix
Dymes, not being able to get a seat at her side, stood behind her, and
whispered his admiration.

'You've gone ahead tremendously. That isn't amateur playing. All the
others are not fit to be heard in the same day. Really, you know, you
ought to think of coming out.'

Many other persons were only less complimentary, and one, Mrs
Strangeways, was even more so; she exhausted herself in terms of
glowing eulogy. At the end of the concert this lady drew Alma apart.

'Dear Mrs. Rolfe, I wonder whether I could ask you to do me a kindness?
Are you in any hurry to get home?'

It was six o'clock, on an evening of January. Delighted with her
success, Alma felt very much like a young man whose exuberant spirits
urge him to 'make a night of it'. She declared that she was in no hurry
at all, and would be only too glad to do Mrs. Strangeways any kindness
in her power.

'It will sound rather odd to you,' pursued the lady in a low voice,
'but I would rather trust you than anyone else. You know that Mr.
Redgrave and I are very old friends--such old friends that we are
really almost like brother and sister.'

Alma nodded.

'You've heard us speak of his bungalow at Wimbledon. Just now he is in
Paris, and he happens to want a portrait, a photograph, out of an album
in the bungalow. Naturally he would have asked his sister to look for
it and send it, but Mrs. Fenimore is also away from home; so he has
written to me, and begged me to do him the kindness. I know exactly
where the photo is to be looked for, and all I have to do is to drive
over to Wimbledon, and a servant will be waiting to admit me. Now, you
will think it childish, but I really don't like to go alone. Though Mr
Redgrave and I are such great friends, of course I have only been to
the bungalow when he had people there--and--of course it's very foolish
at my age--but I'm sure you understand me----'

'You mean you would like me to go with you?' said Alma, with uncertain
voice.

'Dare I ask it, dear Mrs. Rolfe? There will be _no_ one but the
servant, who is told to expect a friend of her master's. I am _very_
foolish, but one cannot be too careful, you know, and w