“Well,” said Elliott, “you’re found.” Clifford was beginning again with self-reproaches and self-abasement, but Rex broke in: “You fellows are awfully good—I do assure you I appreciate it. But I wasn’t in any more danger than the rest of you. What about Thaxton and the Colossus and Carleton?” He grew anxious as he named them. “We all got off with no trouble at all, only we missed you—and then the troops fired, and they chased us over the bridge and scattered us in the Quarter, and we all drifted one by one into the Café des Écoles. And then you didn’t come, and we waited till after dinner, and finally came here to find your door locked—” “Oh!” burst out Clifford, “I tell you, Rex—damn it! I will express my feelings!” “No, you won’t,” said Rex; “drop ’em, old boy, don’t express ’em. Here we are—that’s enough, isn’t it, Shakespeare?” The bird had climbed to Gethryn’s shoulder and was cocking his eye fondly at Clifford. They were dear friends. Once he had walked up Clifford’s arm and had grabbed him by the ear, for which Clifford, more in sorrow than in anger, soaked him in cold water. Since that, their mutual understanding had been perfect. “Where are you going to, you old fiend?” said Clifford, tickling the parrot’s throat. “Hell!” shrieked the bird. “Good Heavens! I never taught him that,” said Gethryn. Clifford smiled, without committing himself. “But where were you, Rex?” asked Elliott. Rex flushed. “Hullo,” cried Clifford, “here’s Reginald blushing. If I didn’t know him better I’d swear there’s a woman in it.” The dark figure at the end of the room rose and walked swiftly over, and Rex saw that it was Braith, as he had supposed. “I swear I forgot him,” laughed Elliott. “What a queer bird you are, Braith, squatting over there as silent as a stuffed owl!” “He has been walking his legs off after you,” began Clifford, but Braith cut him short with a brusque— “Where were you, Rex?” Gethryn winced. “I’d rather—I think”—he began, slowly— “Excuse me—it’s not my business,” growled Braith, throwing himself into a seat and beginning to rub Mrs Gummidge the wrong way. “Confound the cat!” he added, examining some red parallel lines which suddenly decorated the back of his hand. “She won’t stand rubbing the wrong way,” said Rex, smiling uneasily. “Like the rest of us,” said Elliott. “More fool he who tries it,” said Braith, and looked at Gethryn with an affectionate smile that made him turn redder than before. “Rex,” began Clifford again, with that fine tact for which he was celebrated, “own up! You spent last night warbling under the windows of Lisette.” “Or Frisette,” said Elliott, “or Cosette.” “Or Babette, Lisette, Frisette, Cosette, Babette!” chanted the two young men in a sort of catch.