hing, to do with the curious entanglement of my friend's affairs
into which I was afterwards drawn, but an odd coincidence all the same,
that on passing from the dining room with Adrian to join Barbara in the
drawing room, I found among the last post letters lying on the hall
table one which, with a thrill of pleasure, I held up before Adrian's
eyes.

"Do you recognise the handwriting?"

"Good Lord!" cried he. "It's from Jaffery Chayne. And"--he scanned the
stamp and postmark--"from Cettinje. What the deuce is he doing there?"

"Let us see!" said I.

I opened the letter and scanned it through; then I read it aloud.

"Dear Hilary,

"A line to let you know that I'm coming back soon. I haven't quite
finished my job--"

"What was his job?"

"Heaven knows," I replied. "The last time I heard from him he was
cruising about the Sargasso Sea."

I resumed my reading.

"--for the usual reason, a woman. If it wasn't for women what a
thundering amount of work a man could get through. Anyhow--I'm
coming back, with an encumbrance. A wife. Not my wife, thank
Olympus, but another man's wife--"

"Poor old devil!" cried Adrian. "I knew he would come a mucker one
of these days!"

"Wait," said I, and I read--

"--poor Prescott's wife. I don't think you ever knew Prescott, but
he was a good sort. He died of typhoid. Only quaggas and yaks and
other iron-gutted creatures like myself can stand Albania. I'm
escorting her to England, so look out for us. How's everybody? Do
you ever hear of Adrian? If so, collar him. I want to work the
widow off on him. She has a goodish deal of money and is a kind of
human dynamo. The best thing in the world for Adrian."

Adrian confounded the fellow. I continued--

"Prepare then for the Dynamic Widow. Love to Barbara, the fairy
grasshopper--"

"Who's that?"

"My daughter, Susan Freeth. The last time he saw her, she was
hopping about in a green jumper--Barbara would give you the
elementary costume's commercial name."

"--and yourself," I read. "By the way, do you know of a
granite-built, iron-gated, portcullised, barbicaned, really
comfortable home for widows?

Yours, Jaffery."

Without waiting for comment from Adrian, I went with the letter into the
drawing room, he following. I handed it to Barbara, who ran it through.

"That