“Not from me,” said the girl significantly, “but father is rather susceptible. She’s an awfully good sort really, but I do wish she wouldn’t take snuff.”) Michael knew, or was known to, them all. “It’s a rum idea of yours, going into the police, Pretherston,” said Sir Ralph with that air of patronage which he reserved for people poorer than himself. “It’s just as rum an idea as your going into trade and keeping shops,” said Michael. Sir Ralph smiled indulgently. “We have to do something to make an honest living,” he said. “I suppose the reference to the shops is my association with the Colonial Retail Stores. That makes a hundred thousand a year, Pretherston.” “Then you have a hundred thousand reasons for selling bad jam,” said Michael; “I’ve given up buying things at your shops.” “That is a tragedy,” said Sir Ralph with heavy humor. “Try us again and we will endeavour to merit your patronage.” “I have another bone to pick with you,” said Michael. He did not like Sir Ralph Sapson. “I came up the other day from Seahampton, the railway carriage was beastly, hadn’t been cleaned for a month, and the train was fifty minutes late. The London and Seahampton is another of your profitable ventures isn’t it?” “I am told that I have an interest in it,” said Sir Ralph, with a smile at the girl, “but, really, my dear Pretherston, when you find a railway so badly conducted you ought to complain to the police.” This amused him so much that he laughed without restraint and was, as a result, compelled to explain his joke to fourteen people who were anxious to share it. Michael had to leave early. “I should dearly love to stay and play bridge with you,” he said. “Michael, you are a little horrid, aren’t you?” asked the girl. “Horrid?” he asked, puzzled. “You are so practical, you weren’t always like that.” “And you weren’t always unpractical,” he laughed. She had hoped--she did not know exactly what she had hoped, but the new Michael was so unlike the old that she could almost have cried with vexation. Gone was the old recklessness, the old extravagance (save in directions annoying to her guests) and the old adoration which shone in his eyes. There was an unpleasant feeling that he was laughing at her all the time and that did not add to her happiness. “I don’t think you’re nice, anyway,” she said; “won’t you come more often to see us?” “When you lose a pearl necklace, or find the hired lady surreptitiously carrying off your provisions, drop a line to Inspector Michael Pretherston, Room 26, Scotland House and I will be with you in a jiffy.” “By which I understand you don’t want to see us at all,” she said petulantly; “I am sorry I asked you to-night.” “I, for my part, am very glad,” he said.