“I can’t understand,” began Bobbie. “You’ve only to explain to Diana----” Gordon’s laugh was harsh. Bobbie had heard him laugh once before like that--when he was recovering from gas after having a tooth out. “I haven’t told you the worst,” said Gordon gloomily. “Diana found me here and accused me of being Double Dan. I was struck dumb. The idea was so grotesque that I could not find words to answer her. Suppose somebody came to you in the street and accused you of murder, what would you say? Something amusing? I haven’t the gift of persiflage. I could have got out of it even then, but that infernal woman made her appearance and hung round my neck! In a sense she was justified. Diana threatened to shoot her. A woman doesn’t like that. What was I to do? My dilemma was a terrible one! I had the alternative of admitting that I was Double Dan, impersonator and teller of plausible stories, or of telling the unbelievable truth, which means that she would have thought that I was engaged in a vulgar affair with Heloise.” This argument seemed very sound to Bobbie. “Who called her Aunt Lizzie?” he asked. He might have saved himself the trouble. “Who do you think?” asked Gordon bitterly. “Diana! Bobbie, that girl is driving me mad! Why did she come from Australia to upset my life? And I’m a member of the British Empire League! Curse the Empire! Diana is terrible! She is carrying on with Dempsi under my eyes. The most shocking little cad! A bounder of bounders! And Bobbie, she pretends to be a widow! I don’t know whose widow--I sometimes think it is mine. If that is so, the things she says about me are enough to make me turn in my grave!” Bobbie was very grave and thoughtful. This was a situation so bizarre that it could not be tested by his own experience. “I see,” he said slowly. “Deuced awkward, old man.” Gordon had expected some other comment. In all the conditions “deuced awkward” seemed rather mild. “You’ve got to help me get out of this,” he said impatiently. “And we’ve got to deal drastically with Dempsi. Why, he wanted to marry her this afternoon! Said he knew a place that specialised in Sunday afternoon marriages! The parson called twice! Dempsi carries a special license in his pocket, the hateful little dago! I shall do something desperate. I shall shoot them both.” Bobbie was looking at him curiously. His real anger was so patently directed toward Dempsi, whose chief offence seemed to be that he wanted to marry Diana: which seemed a reasonable and laudable ambition. “I shouldn’t shoot them,” said Bobbie slowly. “You’ll only get yourself talked about. And besides, I don’t see that it is any business of yours. They were old friends, lovers----” “Do you want to drive me mad?” snarled Gordon. “Lovers! They were never lovers! Diana--Diana, of all women in the world, to--to--carry on like this! Encouraging him--there’s no other word for it! Diana, whom I believed the very soul of modesty!”