"I have always maintained," she observed, "that there ought to be a law appointing women inspectors to go round and look after the rooms of young men that live alone in London. Their motives would be misunderstood, of course, but it would be worth while, all the same. Is there a servant-body of any kind in this place?" "He says that a woman comes in every morning and tidies up." "I should like to meet her," said Miss Leslie grimly. "I expect she could a tale unfold. Where does he get his food, and how does he eat it? Off the floor?" "I don't know," said Peggy, who had sat very silent through this tirade. "I--I had no idea it was as bad as this." They invaded the tiny pantry. Here they found a teapot, together with a cup and saucer, two plates, a knife, a fork, and a spoon. There was also a small frying-pan, and a tarnished cruet-stand. A very dingy dishcloth hung upon a nail at the back of the door. There were receptacles which had evidently at one time contained tea, sugar, and salt, but they were empty. The lady who tidied up had seen to that. The place was dusty, and smelt of mice. "And he told me only yesterday that he was very happy here," remarked Miss Leslie. "Poor, poor body!" They returned to the sitting-room, and, having selected the necessary books from a heap upon the floor, turned to go. But Miss Leslie's attention was arrested by something upon the mantel-piece. "Bless me," she exclaimed, "what's that?" "That" was the Meldrum Carburettor, the original model--the solitary ornament of the apartment. "He invented it, I think," said Peggy. "Didn't he tell you about it?" "He did," replied Miss Leslie, "several times. Well, let us be stepping. This place gives me the creepies." She marched out of the room and began to descend the staircase. Peggy, hanging back for a moment, unexpectedly produced a diminutive pocket-handkerchief from her belt, and put it furtively to one of its uses. After that, flinging a defiant glance round the empty room, she picked up the books from the table and turned once more to the door. Suddenly her eye was caught by a gleam of colour at her feet. It was a pink carnation--one of a small bunch which Philip had given to her. He had bought them in the street during his first outing in a bath-chair, and after keeping them for three days had taken the flowers in one hand and his courage in the other and made the presentation. They were slightly faded--a fact upon which their recipient had not failed to comment. Indeed, she had accused the donor, to his great distress, of having bought them second-hand. Well, here was one of the bunch lying on the dusty floor: Peggy had dislodged it from her belt in replacing her handkerchief. She picked it up, and gazed thoughtfully about the room. Then she tiptoed across to the mantelpiece, and proceeded to ornament the Meldrum Carburettor with a floral device. Then she ran guiltily down stairs after Miss Leslie. II