ed his plate away, and said when
they were alone--

"Funny! I can't eat a thing! Sylvia says I live on nothing but oranges.
Pretty rotten sign, eh? Here's what I've heard about HER."

He took out of his purse a neatly-cut-out paragraph from _The Queen_. It
stated that Madame Patti had been warmly greeted by all the village of
Craig-y-nos, and was about to give an afternoon concert there for the
benefit of the poor.

"I shan't have another chance to see HER before I go back," said Savile,
looking steadily at his sister.

She followed his idea in a second. "All right! Poor boy! There's no
great harm. Shall I give you the--change"--(to Savile, Felicity always
spoke of money as change)--"to run up to Wales and hear her sing, and
then come back the same evening? It doesn't really matter what time you
arrive home, you see. You can stay with me. I'll tell papa you're going
to a concert and I want you to stay with me."

Savile was nearly purple with joy. "Would you really? What bricks girls
can be!" He shook hands with her with intense self-restraint, and
murmured, "I shan't forget this, old girl."

Felicity completed the arrangements, and Savile left, a very happy boy.

At three o'clock Felicity, in her wonderful orchid-mauve tea-gown, was
conversing pathetically with Jasmyn Vere, one of the habitues of what
her friends called her sentimental bureau.

He was not one of her favourite clients. He was egotistical, and his
mania for Agatha was becoming rather a bore. Agatha was a plain,
muscular, middle-aged widow who drove him to distraction by her temper
and her flirtations. Felicity only stood it at all because he sang and
played beautifully, imitated popular actors in his lighter moments, and
gave amusing dinners at restaurants.

"What would you have done?" he said. "By mistake, Agatha posted this
letter to me!"

He took out of a pale grey morocco case a note with "Stanhope Gate" and
a large "A" on it in scarlet and black.

She read--

Dear Bob,

Excuse rush. All rubbish about Jasmin. He's a hopeless idiot, but a
good old sort. Mind you fetch me in time for Lingfield Races
to-morrow and put me on to a good thing.

Yours,

AGATHA.

Felicity handed it back.

"Just fancy, Lady Chetwode! I confronted her with this. She had put it
in the wrong envelope and sent a note meant for me to Captain
Henderson. She only roared