Requests to visit were falling rapidly: so were requests to revisit: in the latter’s stead indignant letters of complaint were arriving by every post. That the latter included one from Mrs. Drinkabeer Stoat suggested that the end was at hand. Some of Titus’s calls were beginning to be returned by furious clients, who, refusing to believe that the Cheviots were not at home, simmered in the stalls for hours at a time. Titus glanced at his watch. “She won’t come now,” he murmured. “I suppose she’s wired to the flat that she’s stayin’ on. Waitin’ on Worth or something for a monkey.” He regarded his finger-nails. “Damn it, I wish she’d come back,” he added suddenly. “If I have to send, it’ll give the game away, an’ it’s—it’s close on closing-time. Very close. An’ there ain’t no blinkin’ market for a business wot’s closed its doors. If she isn’t back to-morrow—— Thunder of heaven, here she is.” It was true. As he rose from his seat, the shop-door was slammed to, and an instant later Mrs. Cheviot was in his arms. “Titus, my darling, we must go—leave England at once.” Cheviot’s brain reeled. “Leave England?” he gasped. “Why?” “Listen. D’you want to be murdered?” “Not particularly,” said Titus. “But——” “Then we must go,” said Blanche. “Why you’re still alive I can’t imagine. Have there been any riots yet?” “Not that I know of,” said Titus. “I haven’t had much time for the papers lately. In the last ten days——” “Well, there will be soon,” said Blanche. “To-morrow probably. Come on.” “What on earth d’you mean?” said Titus dazedly. “What riots?” “Listen,” cried Blanche, catching him by his lapels “This evening—no matter why—I, er, called on a Mr. Blatchbourne. He’s got a house in Kent. Well——” “Blatchbourne,” said Titus. “Blatchbourne. Now, where have I seen that name?” Suddenly the truth dawned upon him—and with it came daylight in one blinding flash. _Blanche was about to play straight into his hands._ He had meant to show her the letters of violent complaint. He had meant them to frighten her out of her very life. And then, when she had decided that they must fly, he had meant to announce his intention of carrying on. Finally, he had meant to give way—_upon certain terms_. With a truly lightning brain he picked up his cue. “Oh, I know,” he said. “I know. I did three rooms for them.” “At three hundred guineas,” said Blanche. “My dear, you did. I had tea in your hall this afternoon.” “What a funny thing,” said Titus. “Did you say who you were?” “No,” said Blanche faintly. “I didn’t. Like you, I value my life. Apparently you got busy while Blatchbourne himself was away, and his wife put through the deal. When he came back, it was all over. Of course he’s mad as a hornet, and I don’t blame him. Titus, that hall would make a saint see red.” “Nonsense, my dear,” said Cheviot. “I remember it perfectly. That’s one of my favourite designs. The ‘Boot and Saddle’ I call it. Did you notice the pigskin ceiling?”