Reference to the licensing authorities had given him the names of the owners of the respective cars, and an interview with his Inspector had, as we have seen, pointed the path to glory and the surest way to tread. When he turned into Curzon Street at a quarter past five, P.C. Albert Bloke was prepared to wring a statement from a Trappist. Peering into the library of the house which he was seeking, you might have thought that the bird of Care had there no rest for the sole of its foot. To be frank, it was on the wing. That morning Virginia had breakfasted downstairs for the first time for half a year. Afterwards, at her suggestion, she and Derry had played a round of golf. The game did much, but the way in which she had asked him to give her lunch was irresistible. Her husband’s surprise at her attention was swallowed in a spring-tide of joy. This was infectious. Resolutely thrusting Rosemary out of her thoughts, Virginia found him attractive as never before and, surreptitiously comparing him with Roger, began to wonder whether she had been bewitched. When in the afternoon they repaired to Lord’s, pride of possession came to steal her content. Thronged as was the ground with a distinguished company, brilliant as was the parade upon the mighty green, Derry Peruke stood out, a notable figure of a man. Virginia was equally conspicuous, but love had no eyes for that. Presently Royalty saw them, and the two were sent for. Virginia’s cup was full. . . . The match was over early, and as they were leaving the ground two familiar figures emerged from a covered stand and, apparently engrossed in mutual admiration, stepped almost into their arms. For a second Virginia’s sun lurched in his heaven. Then, quick as a flash, she did the right thing. “My dear,” she said to Rosemary, “but what a peach of a dress. Come back and have tea in Curzon Street and let me digest its style. And I’ll show you one from Michele that I’m afraid to put on.” Mrs. Chase picked up her cue. . . . The four shared a taxi to Mayfair and, putting their shoulders to the tambourine, kept this upon the move. Their efforts met with success. By inches uneasiness was shunted, and by the time that tea was served the four were displaying a fellowship which was every moment becoming more spontaneous. Old days, old laughter were recaptured: umbrage was overwhelmed, the sense of injury starved. The spectre of resentment was there, but it was under hatches. Then the butler entered and spoke to Derry. “A policeman?” said the latter. “Oh, a summons, I s’pose. Jenny, m’dear, have you been stopped in the Park?” “That’s right,” said Virginia, turning. “On Monday. But what a sinful shame. I wasn’t doing thirty, and they said at the time—— Constable!” “Madam,” said P.C. Bloke and entered the room. “Who applied for this summons? Was it a keeper with a grey moustache?” P.C. Bloke stared. “What summons, madam?” he said blankly.