done anything off
colour."

"You!" said Amaryllis. "D'you know what he told me, the day we drove to
Oxford?"

"Some silly yarn."

"A dear story, not a bit silly. He said he daren't admire a gun or a
book or a horse of yours, for fear you'd force it on him. Said it was a
mercy of Providence that your size and shape permitted him to admire
your coats and trousers."

"Well," asked Randal, "doesn't he deserve the best of everything?"

"Oh, yes!" declared the girl eagerly.

"This time," said Bellamy, "he's getting it. And it's God's truth, my
dear, that it makes me unspeakably happy."

Amaryllis put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him.

And then George came in with _The Sunday Telegram_.

"Raid on a West-End Flat!" he grumbled. "Nice, respectable lot you are,
getting me mixed up with a thing like this!" And he read out:

"'In consequence of information which has come into the hands of the
police----' and all the usual jabber. And the placards are screaming
'Secret Dope Factories' all over this moral city. 'World-wide
Organisation to be Broken Up.' 'Five Leaders Arrested.' They'll be
getting me and Betsy into the witness-box."

"Come off it, George," said Dick from the doorway. "You and Liz aren't
going to get boomed in this stunt. Put your money into pars about your
yacht and your stables, if the 'Palatial Home' gadget's wearing thin."

His smile was almost straight again, Amaryllis thought, and there was
little sign upon him of what he had been through, except the patch of
black plaster on his left cheek, and the accentuated limp with which he
came across the room to her.

"Oh, Dick!" she exclaimed. "What a lovely coat!"

"That's just what I was going to say about you," he answered, taking her
hand. "We look a bit different, don't we?"

"Sent me in a cab, as if I were his valet," said Randal, "to fetch his
newest and purplest raiment from his beastly little flat."

"Nothing like it," said George, "to take the taste of savagery out of
the mouth. If the proletariat would only dress for dinner every night,
we shouldn't have any labour troubles. The Nationalisation of the
Dinner-jacket would be death to the Agitator. They say Abe Grinnel is
drafting a bill to make it illegal."

Lady Elizabeth came in with Caldegard. Amaryllis soon had her father at
one end of the room in a subdued conversation of which the hostess had
little difficulty in guessing the subject. The two brothers, she
observed, had com