"Before Saturday? Well, what sort of thing does he want before
Saturday?"

"Oh, something political. Or some post--or something diplomatic."

"You're pleased to be vague," said Chetwode, bowing.

"Oh, all right! Then you can't do it?" Savile stood up.

"Please, Savile, no violence! Take another cigarette. Of course, the
idea is that I must talk to somebody. Perhaps Teignmouth----"

"Put the whole thing before him," said Savile.

"The beastly part is no one will stand being talked to about things, and
everybody hates having the whole matter put before them--unless it's
gossip. Then, by Jove, won't they go into details!"

Savile controlled his feelings, and said, "Well, here's a romantic
story, a lovely girl--young man disinherited----"

Chetwode visibly shrank from the explicitness.

"All right, old boy. Look here, I see your point--I give you my word
I'll try."

Savile, terrified at the thought that he might have been a bore, got up
again and held out his hand.

"When will you let me know?"

"As soon as I've seen anybody or done anything that seems to help at
all.... Let's see, what's your telephone number?"

"I haven't got any telephone number," said Savile, "at least, not on
_this_ subject. Won't kill you to wire and let me know when I can see
you again."

"Good! that's the idea. And look here, Savile, you think I am not going
to trouble, I can see that. But you happen to be wrong. I'll fix it up
all right."

"I thought you would," said Savile.

"And we won't talk it over, don't you know, to--a--women or anything.
Eh?"

"Catch me," said Savile.

"Well, I must go out now," said Chetwode. "Can I drop you?"

"Think I'll walk," said Savile.

They shook hands most cordially. Chetwode went out smiling to himself,
and strolled towards the Club.

CHAPTER XVIII

FELICITY'S ENGAGEMENTS

"Is Lady Chetwode at home?"

Before Greenstock, who seemed about to give a negative answer, could
reply, Wilton went on.

"Oh yes, she _must_ be at home; please ask her to read this note, and
send me down a verbal answer immediately."

"Very well, sir."

"I won't get out, Greenstock. I'll just wait in the motor till I get an
answer."

"Yes, sir."

Wilton turned to the chauffeur and said, "How do you think she's looking
to-day, Pearce?"

The motor had recently been painted green, because Felicity had said it
was too compromising to drive with Wilton in a scarlet one.

"Never better, sir," said t