"Possibly. If not, we can always climb to the top of the Haymarket and light a beacon-fire," replied the caustic Mr. Mablethorpe, still sore at the thought of yet another scrambled dinner. His daughter ignored the pleasantry. "Will you come and help me to find it, Philip?" she said. Philip complied, and the pair went out to the hotel telephone exchange, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Mablethorpe to regard one another curiously. "Poor Derek!" said Mrs. Mablethorpe. "Poor Dumps!" said Mr. Mablethorpe, to himself. Meanwhile, at the telephone, Sylvia was saying to Philip:--"It would never do to leave you out, Philip, on the last evening, would it?" For a moment their eyes met. Then Sylvia's dropped quickly. * * * * * Philip dined in solitary state in his own flat. He still retained his holding therein, for his duties involved a good deal of travelling, and it was convenient to have a _pied-à-terre_ in London. Timothy was out, and he had the premises to himself, for which he was not altogether sorry. He had a good deal to occupy his mind just at present, and he wanted to think. But his thoughts had made no appreciable progress when he arrived at the Arena Palace of Varieties at five minutes to eight. He found the party already assembled in the _foyer_, under the radiant direction of Sylvia and the thundercloud escort of Mr. Derek Rayner, who greeted Philip gloomily but politely. A mincing damsel in a lace tucker conducted them to their seats, which were situated in the fourth row of an unpeopled desert of stalls. "It's lucky we got here in time," mused Mr. Mablethorpe, surveying the Sahara around them. "We might have had to stand." "If people," remarked Sylvia with asperity, "think it grand not to come to a heavenly place like this till ten o'clock, so much the worse for them!" She sank down luxuriously in the armchair which called itself a stall, and commanded Philip and Rayner to dispose themselves upon either side of her, leaving her parents to shift for themselves. Rayner, with the air of a conjuror who is a little doubtful as to whether his audience are not getting slightly tired of this trick, produced a box of chocolates out of his hat, and the party settled down to enjoy the performance. The ladies and gentlemen who figured in the earlier portion of the programme were obviously surprised and pleased to find the stalls inhabited. Accustomed to shout across an ocean of blue plush to an audience of pigmies situated upon the distant horizon, their gratification at finding human beings within a few yards of them was extreme. More than one of the comedians worked an allusion to the fact into his "patter." About a quarter to nine the ranks of the stallholders were stiffened by the arrival of a magnificent gentleman in evening dress, with a gardenia in his buttonhole. He took a seat in the front row. "I told you there would be lots of people soon," announced Sylvia.