erson exceedingly difficult to place. His clothes so obviously
denoted the station in life which he really occupied, while the slight
imperiousness of his manner, his absolute freedom from any sort of
nervousness or awkwardness, seemed to bespeak a consideration which
those who had to deal with him as a stranger found sometimes a little
puzzling.

"Mrs. Wenham Gardner is in her rooms, I believe, sir," the man said. "If
you will wait for a moment, I will inquire."

He disappeared into his office, thrusting his head out, a moment or two
later, with the telephone receiver still in his hand.

"Mrs. Gardner would like the name again, sir, please," he remarked.

Tavernake repeated it firmly.

"You might say," he added, "that I shall not detain her for more than a
few minutes."

The man disappeared once more. When he returned, he indicated the lift
to Tavernake.

"If you will go up to the fifth floor, sir," he said, "Mrs. Gardner
will see you."

Tavernake found his courage almost leaving him as he knocked at the door
of her rooms. Her French maid ushered him into the little sitting-room,
where, to his dismay, he found three men, one sitting on the table, the
other two in easy-chairs. Elizabeth, in a dress of pale blue satin, was
standing before the mirror. She turned round as Tavernake entered.

"Mr. Tavernake shall decide!" she exclaimed, waving her hand to him.
"Mr. Tavernake, there is a difference of opinion about my earrings. Major
Post here,"--she indicated a distinguished-looking elderly gentleman,
with carefully trimmed beard and moustache, and an eyeglass attached to
a thin band of black ribbon--"Major Post wants me to wear turquoises. I
prefer my pearls. Mr. Crease half agrees with me, but as he never agrees
with any one, on principle, he hates to say so. Mr. Faulkes is wavering.
You shall decide; you, I know, are one of those people who never waver."

"I should wear the pearls," Tavernake said.

Elizabeth made them a little courtesy.

"You see, my dear friends," she declared, "you have to come to England,
after all, to find a man who knows his own mind and speaks it without
fear. The pearls it shall be."

"It may be decision," Crease drawled, speaking with a slight American
accent, "or it may be gallantry. Mr. Tavernake knew your own choice."

"The last word, as usual," she sighed. "Now, if you good people will
kindly go on downstairs, I will join you in a few minutes. Mr. Tavernake
is my man of busi