'It is impossible,' he protested. 'Perkins may be away for a week. I shall wait upon you until he returns. It is best.' 'Well, have it your own way,' Lavendale remarked. 'Better answer that bell, then. If it is a lady, show her into the sitting-room.' Niko glided away and returned in a moment. 'The lady,' he announced, 'is in the sitting-room.' He held up Lavendale's coat and the latter hastened from the room. Suzanne de Freyne was standing facing the door as he entered, her theatre cloak thrown back. He took her hands. 'You are adorably punctual!' he exclaimed. 'Tell me,' she asked, a little abruptly, 'how long have you had your valet?' 'About five minutes, I believe,' he answered. 'He is a substitute. My own man was taken ill at luncheon-time. Why do you ask?' 'Because he is the first person,' she explained, 'who has succeeded in puzzling me in one particular way since I can remember.' He looked at her as though for an explanation, and in a moment she continued. 'I flatter myself that I never forget a face. Your valet is perfectly well-known to me and yet I cannot tell you who he is.' Lavendale glanced uneasily towards the door. 'I shan't keep him,' he said. 'I hate prejudices, but I am full of them. The fellow's a Jap, of course.' Suzanne did not reply for a moment. Her attention seemed to have suddenly wandered. Then she turned around with a little laugh. 'I am hungry, my friend!' she exclaimed. 'Let us go. And yet, remember this. Temporary servants are bad things for people who follow our profession.' They left the room. Niko was standing with the front door wide open, his master's hat and gloves in his hand. 'I will be here at seven o'clock in the morning, sir,' he promised, 'and bring news of Perkins.' Lavendale nodded. The door was closed softly behind them. At the bottom of the stairs he glanced up. 'Wish I could get rid of the ridiculous idea I have about that fellow,' he remarked. 'Is there anything in your rooms of particular--I will not say value, I will say interest?' she inquired. 'I suppose I have the usual amount of valuables,' he admitted, 'but Perkins is a very careful servant, and I am sure he would never have sent any one who wasn't reliable. As regards my papers and that sort of thing, they are all locked up in a safe with a combination lock.' She did not pursue the subject and it faded quickly from Lavendale's mind. They dined in a quiet corner at the Milan and they talked of many things, chiefly the war. 'Do you realize,' he asked her, towards the end of their meal, 'that you are still a complete mystery to me?' She nodded affably. 'Yes?'