After a moment or two the door was opened by a fair-haired girl in a print dress. Her sleeves were rolled up, and her hands and arms dripping. "Afternoon, miss," said Lyveden. He was determined to do the thing properly. "Your lady still wanting a footman?" The girl stared at him. Then-- "I dunno," she said. "Better come in, an' I'll see." Anthony thanked her and entered. She shut the door and flung down the passage and out of sight. A second later a momentary burst of chatter suggested that she had opened the door of the servants' hall. For a minute or two nothing happened, and Lyveden stood in the passage with his hat in his hand, wondering whether his engagement was to rest with the butler. Then a door opened and closed, and a girl dressed as a parlour-maid appeared upon the scene. She was walking slowly, and seemed to be endeavouring to extricate something from the depths of her mouth. "Come in answer to the ad.?" she queried. "That's right," said Lyveden. "Oh." She leaned against the wall and regarded a wet forefinger. "Got a bone in me gum," she added abstractedly. Anthony wondered whether he was expected to offer assistance, but, deciding to risk a breach of etiquette, assumed a look of anxiety instead. "How rotten!" he murmured. The girl looked at him curiously. Then-- "'Addock, too," she said. "An' that's easy, reelly, as fish goes. But there, I ain't got much use for any fish, 'cept salmon. Shall I say you're 'ere?" "Yes, please, miss. I've no appointment." "You're the firs', any way," was the comforting reply. She left him standing. The inspection to which during her absence Lyveden was subjected was only less trying than the open secrecy with which it was conducted. Heads were thrust into the passage to be withdrawn amid a paroxysm of giggling. Somebody was pushed into full view to retire precipitately amid an explosion of mirth. Preceded by stifled expressions of encouragement, a pert-looking lady's maid strolled leisurely past the newcomer, opened the back door, closed it, and returned as haughtily as she had gone. She was applauded ridiculously.... Anthony swore under his breath. At last the parlour-maid reappeared, finger in mouth. "Somethin' crool, this bone is," she vouchsafed. "Come on." Anthony followed her gratefully upstairs and presently into a small withdrawing room upon the first floor. From an expensively hideous couch Mrs. Slumper regarded the fruit of her advertisement. She was a large vulgar-looking woman of about fifty summers. Whosesoever the hair of her head, it was most elaborately dressed and contained five combs. Anthony counted them. She was enclosed in a dress which was at once highly fashionable and painfully unbecoming, and the pearls which rose and fell upon her tremendous bosom were almost too good to be true. From beneath the short skirt a pair of ponderous legs terminated in all the anguish of patent-leather shoes. Anthony bowed.