o-morrow if you like."

"Good. And in the meantime we'll both think hard of some other way."

That evening at dinner Joyce said, "I have an idea, but I'm not going to
tell you yet. Have you thought of anything?"

"Yes," I said. "I've got a brilliant scheme, but I'm going to keep it to
myself for the present."

"I knew you'd think of a way out," Joyce said, "if you gave your mind to
it."

My brilliant scheme was to pop the silver, and I managed to get away with
it next morning (Wednesday) without arousing Joyce's suspicions. I got L20
on it at the local hypothecary's, squared the landlord, leaving a few
pounds in hand, and hid the ticket in my writing-case. I spent the morning
on the alterations for Short, and the afternoon on the links, and lost
three good balls--curious coincidence, as I had found three such useful
ones at the pawnbroker's in the morning.

The evening of Wednesday passed off quietly. Joyce looked very cheerful and
didn't say a word about the silver, so I felt sure she hadn't missed it.
Uncle Henry had called, she said, and wanted us both to go and dine with
him at the Fitz on Saturday night, and she had accepted.

"Good," I said.

I suppose I looked very cheerful because Joyce said--

"Your scheme's come off, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes," I said, "it's come off--er--quite well. How's yours?"

"Mine was quite successful, thank you, and I shall get a new frock for
dinner on Saturday."

As I didn't want to give my scheme away just then, I didn't press Joyce to
reveal hers, and we retired for the night with honours easy.

When I got home on Thursday from a day in town, Joyce met me at the gate.
She looked scared.

"We've had a burglar," she said. "The silver's gone. Oh, why didn't I take
the warning?"

This was my big scene, but I never believe in rushing a good climax, so I
simply said--

"The silver gone? Dear, dear. A burglar, did you say? I told you they were
about."

"Really, I'm not joking," said Joyce. "Both Jessie and I were out this
afternoon and he must have got in by the scullery window, which I'm afraid
was unlatched."

I was enjoying her consternation immensely.

"A burglar?" I repeated. "How very interesting!"

"Oh," said Joyce, stamping her foot, "can't you _do_ something?"

"My dear Joyce," I said, fixing her with my eleven-stone look, "let us stop
this mummery. Behold the burglar!" and I struck the attitude that I thought
would have done credit to Sir HERBERT.

"You!