“But Mademoiselle is not receiving, Monsieur.” “Do as I say,” said Ivan. “When Mademoiselle is descend, sair, I will give ’er the card. Eef Monsieur will return these afternoon——” “Send the card up,” said Ivan. “And say that I am below.” The butler began to perspire. “Verry good, sair . . . Monsieur will excuse me, but Monsieur is again’ ze door.” “You can leave it open,” said Ivan comfortably. “I’m not here to steal.” The butler took a deep breath. “Mademoiselle ’as gommanded——” “No doubt,” said Ivan drily. “Tell her that I prevented you. Tell her I said that if you tried to shut it I should tell my servants to put you in the road.” The butler looked round wildly. Then he caught Ivan’s eye and blenched. Finally, after one frightful spasm of irresolution, he flung up despairing palms and staggered into the hall. A flurry of furious whispering came to Pomeroy’s ears. Then the butler returned, with starting eyes. “Mademoiselle regrets that she cannot see you, sair.” “Right,” said Pomeroy, lighting a cigarette. Then, “Dewlap!” he cried. “Berryman!” “Sir,” came a ready chorus from valet and chauffeur. “Bring in those things.” “Very good, sir.” A moment later, bearing a trunk between them, the two ex-soldiers reached the top of the steps. “Into the hall for the moment,” said Pomeroy. “They can go upstairs later on.” “Very good, sir.” The trunk and its bearers passed in, with Ivan behind, the butler retreating backwards before the _cortège_ after the manner of a chamberlain preceding Royalty. As they deposited their burden upon a marble pavement, Belinda rose from a chair in all her glory. “What does this mean?” she demanded, addressing Ivan. “It means,” said Ivan calmly, “that I’m a man of my word. I said I should come on the fifteenth, and here I am.” He turned to his men. “Put the rest just inside and wait within call.” “Very good, sir.” “But I’m in residence,” flashed Belinda. “Yes, I’d gathered that,” said Pomeroy, hanging his hat on a peg. “So’m I.” “D’you mind getting out?” said Belinda in a shaking voice. “Or am I to ring up the police?” “You can ring up the Bastille, if you like. But don’t do the instrument in. I hate being without a telephone.” Miss Seneschal stamped an extremely pretty foot. “Will you get out of this house?” “No,” said Ivan, “I won’t. For ten solid, soul-searing weeks I’ve let you have it, and this is where I get on. I admit my leg’s elastic, but you’ve rung the bell. It won’t stretch any more.” “Ten weeks?” cried Belinda. “Why, I’ve only been here four days!” “I put it at your disposal on the eighth of July. Eight from thirty-one leaves——” “You also begged me to stay as long as I liked.” “I hope you will,” said Ivan. “There’s plenty of room,” and, with that, he sank into a chair. For a moment Belinda never moved. Then she gave a light laugh and, opening an Old Chelsea box, selected a cigarette. When she had lighted this she took her seat upon a table.