“Say you can’t find me,” he said, “and ask her to leave a message.” The boy did so. A voice, which was anything but gentle, replied: “All right, I’ll come round.” Virgil blenched. “Say I’m not living here, and you don’t know my address.” “Then why you ask me to leave a message,” flashed Miss Townshend. “Er—on the chance,” stammered the page. “Well, ’ere it is—on the chance,” said Jane. “I’ll be round in ’alf an hour.” The receiver was slammed into place. Virgil and the page stared at one another in dismay. Then the former said an extremely unpleasant word under his breath and erupted violently from the box. . . Miss Vulliamy greeted him with a cold smile. “Get on all right?” she said acidly. “We must leave at once,” said Virgil. “Go on to the Berkeley, or my rooms, or somewhere. We can’t stay here. She says she’s coming at once—may be here any moment.” “Then why go?” said Sarah. “Well, we can’t be here when she comes. You don’t want a scene, do you? Screams and yells in the hall, and all that sort of thing?” He mopped the sweat from his face. “It’s all that blinking letter you made me write,” he added savagely. “I might have known——” “But, of course, you must see her,” said Sarah, rising. “I’ll go, if you like: but you must stay. Poor, wretched girl, you can’t——” “Stay?” cried Virgil. “You’re mad. I don’t want to be blackmailed.” “But you said that June——” “It—it _isn’t_ June,” wailed Pardoner. “I mean, it can’t be. It—it isn’t her voice. It’s an impostor—that’s the word—impostor, Sarah. Someone or other’s got hold of that blasted letter, and now they’re trying it on.” “But it must be June,” said Sarah. “The telephone’s very deceptive. Sometimes those very soft voices——” “I tell you it’s _not_,” raged Virgil. “_June doesn’t drop her ‘h’s’._” With a bright red spot upon either cheek, Miss Vulliamy preceded him to the door. While she was getting her cloak, Pardoner gave the porter instructions too definite to be mistaken. These he reinforced with two pounds. Then a taxi was summoned, and a moment later the two were flying up Brook Street. . . . Pardoner entered that cab with the determined intention of telling Miss Vulliamy the truth. He meant to humble himself. He intended to apologize for his reception of his amazing luck. He meant to ask her to do her best to love and to confess there and then that “if the Will went west to-morrow morning, I’ld beg and humbly pray you to become my wife.” Fate ruled otherwise. The tone in which his fiancée cut short his opening sentence with a request to be taken home, would have silenced anyone. After a second effort, which was met by the lady with a true flash of temper, Pardoner told the cabman to drive to Rutland Gate. The journey was completed without a word.