nurse your protege till _I_ slump. Is that it?"

"It wouldn't come to that with you," argued the ancient darling. "You
could bring back his interest in life; I know you could. You'd think of
something. Remember what you did for Roger Fane!"

As a matter of fact, I had done a good deal more for Roger Fane than
dear old Caroline knew or would ever know. But if Roger owed anything to
me, I owed him, and all he had paid me in gratitude and banknotes, to
Mrs. Carstairs.

"I shall never forget Roger Fane, and I hope he won't me," I said.
"Shelagh won't let him! But _he_ hadn't lost interest in life. He just
wanted life to give him Shelagh Leigh. She happened to be my best pal;
and her people were snobs, so I could help him. But this Terry Burns of
yours--what can I do for him?"

"Take him on and see," pleaded the old lady.

"Do you wish him to fall in love with me?" I suggested.

"He wouldn't if I did. He told me the other day that he'd loved only one
woman in his life, and he should never care for another. Besides, I
mustn't conceal from you, this would be an unsalaried job."

"Oh, indeed!" said I, slightly piqued. "I don't want his old love! Or
his old money, either! But--well--I might just go and have a look at
him, if you'd care to take me to Haslemere with you. No harm in seeing
what can be done--if anything. I suppose, as you and Mr. Carstairs
between you were in love with all his ancestors, and he resembles them,
he must be worth saving--apart from the loops. Is he English or American
or _what_?"

"American on one side and What on the other," replied the old lady.
"That is, his father, whom I was in love with, was American. The mother,
whom Henry adored, was French. All that's quite a romance. But it's
ancient history. And it's the present we're interested in. Of course I'd
care to take you to Haslemere. But I have a better plan. I've persuaded
Terry to consult the nerve specialist, Sir Humphrey Hale. He's
comparatively easy to persuade, because he'd rather yield a point than
bother to argue. That's how I got my excuse to run up to town: to
explain the case to Sir Humphrey, and have my flat made ready for
Terence to live in, while he's being treated."

"Oh, that's it," I said, and thought for a minute.

My flat is in the same house as the Carstairs', a charming old house in
which I couldn't afford to live if Dame Caroline (title given by me, not
His Gracious Majesty) hadn't taught me the gentle, well-paid Ar