she was very angry
indeed. How was she to know when and where not to believe me?

"She is fresh and ingenuous enough," said I, "to swallow any kind of
plausible story. And her ingenuousness in writing you a full account of
it is a proof."

"She has given the whole show away," said Jaffery. He smiled. "If
Fendihook knew, he would be as sick as a dog."

"And the poor dear is so honest and truthful," said Barbara. "She
thought she was doing the honourable thing in letting you know."

"No doubt modelling herself on Mrs. Jupp, late Considine," said I.

"Who let us know at the last minute," said Barbara with a quick knitting
of the brow.

"Precisely," said I.

"Good Lord!" cried Jaffery. "Do you think she's gone off with the fellow
already?"

"You had better ring up Queen's Gate and find out."

He rushed from the room. I hastily finished shaving, while Barbara
discoursed to me on the neglect of our duties with regard to Liosha.

Presently Jaffery burst in like a rhinoceros.

"She's gone! She went on Thursday. And this is Saturday. Fendihook left
last Sunday. Evidently she has joined him."

We regarded each other in dismay.

"They're in Havre by now," said Barbara.

"I'm not so sure," said Jaffery, sweeping his beard from moustache
downward. This I knew to be a sign of satisfaction. When he was puzzled
he scrabbled at the whisker. "I'm not so sure. Why should he leave the
boarding-house on Sunday? I'll tell you. Because his London engagement
was over and he had to put in a week's engagement at some provincial
music-hall. Theatrical folks always travel on Sunday. If he was still
working in London and wanted to shift his lodgings he wouldn't have
chosen Sunday. We can easily see by the advertisements in the morning
paper. His London engagement was at the Atrium."

"I've got the _Daily Telegraph_ here," said Barbara.

She fetched it from her room, in the earthquake-stricken condition to
which she, as usual, had reduced it, and after earnest search among the
ruins disinterred the theatrical advertisement page. The attractions at
the Atrium were set out fully; but the name of Ras Fendihook did not
appear.

"I'm right," said Jaffery. "The brute's not in town. Now where did she
write from?" He fished the envelope from his bath-gown pocket.
"Postmark, 'London, S.W., 5.45 p.m.' Posted yesterday afternoon. So
she's in London." He glanced at the letter, which was written on her own
note-paper headed with the Queen's