ough for the present, thank you. Heaven knows how
long it will last!"

Sogrange waved his arm towards the great uneasy plain of blue sea, the
showers of foam leaping into the sunlight, away beyond the disappearing
coasts of France.

"Last," he repeated. "For eight days, I hope. Consider, my dear Baron!
What could be more refreshing, more stimulating to our jaded nerves than
this? Think of the December fogs you have left behind, the cold, driving
rain, the puddles in the street, the grey skies--London, in short, at
her ugliest and worst."

"That is all very well," Peter protested; "but I have left several other
things behind, too."

"As, for instance?" Sogrange inquired genially.

"My wife," Peter informed him. "Violet objects very much to these abrupt
separations. This week, too, I was shooting at Saxthorpe, and I had also
several other engagements of a pleasant nature. Besides, I have reached
that age when I find it disconcerting to be called out of bed in the
middle of the night to answer a long-distance telephone call, and told
to embark on an American liner leaving Southampton early the next
morning. It may be your idea of a pleasure-trip. It isn't mine."

Sogrange was amused. His smile, however, was hidden. Only the tip of his
cigarette was visible.

"Anything else?"

"Nothing much, except that I am always seasick," Peter replied
deliberately. "I can feel it coming on now. I wish that fellow would
keep away with his beastly mutton broth. The whole ship seems to smell
of it."

Sogrange laughed, softly but without disguise.

"Who said anything about a pleasure-trip?" he demanded.

Peter turned his head.

"You did. You told me when you came on at Cherbourg that you had to go
to New York to look after some property there, that things were very
quiet in London, and that you hated travelling alone. Therefore you sent
for me at a few hours' notice."

"Is that what I told you?" Sogrange murmured.

"Yes! Wasn't it true?" Peter asked, suddenly alert.

"Not a word of it," Sogrange admitted. "It is quite amazing that you
should have believed it for a moment."

"I was a fool," Peter confessed. "You see, I was tired and a little
cross. Besides, somehow or other, I never associated a trip to America
with----"

Sogrange interrupted him, quietly but ruthlessly.

"Lift up the label attached to the chair next to yours. Read it out to
me."

Peter took it into his hand and turned it over. A quick exclamation