"You're always so literal, Clarice. I don't ever harp on one string! It doesn't happen to be jealousy of Cheveril at this moment. Rayner's wife, like Caesar's, is above suspicion! I'll tell you what's bothering me. I happen, for business reasons, to want to have a word with the Collector of Puranapore, and I asked Cheveril to introduce me to him. The surly beggar shuffles out of it in the coolest manner possible. Very rude of him, isn't it? No wonder I'm a bit ruffled!" Mr. Rayner wound up peevishly. "An introduction to old Mr. Worsley! Why, if that will make you a smiling partner there's no difficulty about it. He's an old chum of the pater's. I've known him since I was a little mite of a child, and he has always a smile for me, for all they say he's such an old bear. Wait till this dance is finished and we'll seek him out." Miss Glanton was as good as her word. The iridescent-robed maiden looked very charming, when, with her red lips parted showing shining white teeth, she approached the Collector, holding out her hand: "Clarice, of course," said Mr. Worsley, "transformed into a dragon-fly or something of the kind." "So glad you happen to know me this time," said the girl airily. "Well, I don't take credit for any special intelligence, young lady, but you haven't grown, for instance, since we last met!" "Mercifully not! I don't admire tall women," she replied spitefully, her eye travelling to Hester's graceful willowy figure gliding past with Mark Cheveril. Then glancing at the man by her side she recalled her present mission. "I want to introduce my friend here who wishes to know the Collector of Puranapore. Mr. Rayner--Mr. Worsley!" The barrister made a profound bow, lowering his eyelids as he did so. When he raised them, Mr. Worsley's nod had changed to a frown. Recovering himself instantly he turned quickly to the lady, saying lightly: "I hope you are enjoying the dance, Clarice? Plenty of partners, eh?" Alfred Rayner divined that he would fain have added, "Of a better sort than your present one." "Well, seeing we haven't the solace of dancing like you, Sir Frederick and I were about to seek the distraction of the supper-table," pursued Mr. Worsley, glancing round for his friend. "Good evening, Clarice! Tell your father not to forget my little dinner at the Club to-morrow night!" Then he turned on his heel and walked away without even bestowing a single glance on Clarice's companion. "The naughty old man, he didn't catch on at all," said Clarice, puckering her forehead and looking at her companion with a slightly embarrassed air. "I'm afraid you are vexed--but not with me, I hope. I tried to do my level best." "Sure you did, Clarice," returned Mr. Rayner, scowling. "But I'll tell you what has happened. That puppy Cheveril has been slandering me to the Collector. That's what it is!"