"'The R. M. S. P.,'" she read. "I thought that meant you had to reply to an invitation. Oh, I see. Royal Mail Steam Packet. Here's the address. There's a boat leaving to-morrow. Would you like to catch that?" "The earlier the better," he cried. "I must get away at once. Now, who can do it all?" A lad came for a packet of cigarettes, and, as Gertie served him, Mr. Trew entered the doorway; his cheerful salutation caused Jim Langham to start. Trew announced, joyously, that he was up to the neck in trouble; for failing to see a young constable's warning in Oxford Street, he had been suspended from duty for a period of three days. "As I told him, if a driver took notice of all the baby hands held up, why the 'bus would never reach Victoria. Howsomever, here I am; my own master for a time, and ready to make myself generally useless. What about a half-day excursion to Brighton to-morrow, little missy?" "This, Mr. Trew, is Mr. Langham." "I don't get on over and above first class," he said, "with a certain relative of yours, sir, but I never met a family yet that was all alike. Some white sheep in every flock." Gertie explained Jim Langham's requirements, and Trew, placing his hat upon the counter, and admitting himself to be something of an authority on matters connected with the sea, brought his best intelligence to bear upon the subject. It was too late, he decided, to go down that evening to the steamship office, but a telegram might be sent, asking for a berth to be reserved, and Mr. Langham could go to the docks in the morning. "It is absolutely imperative," declared the other urgently, "that I leave at the first possible moment." "If the worst comes to the worst," said Mr. Trew, "you can ship as a stowaway. You come up on deck, third day out, and kneel at the captain's feet and sing a song about being an orphan. That, of course, would be a last resource." Gertie discovered a telegram form, and on the instructions of Mr. Trew, filled it in; and Jim Langham assured her that he was more obliged than he could express in words. Mr. Trew left to arrange the dispatch of the message. "I count myself extremely fortunate," said the other, "to have encountered you, Miss Higham. If you hear anything against me later on, I--I should feel grateful if you thought the best of me that you can. I wish," he went on, with an anxious air, "I wish I knew how to repay you." "Don't make a fuss about trifles," she recommended. He gazed at a picture of a well-attired youth smoking a cigar. "I was a decent chap once," he said thoughtfully, "but that was long ago. Look here, Miss Higham! Henry--you know Henry?" "I did know him." Turning her face away. "He will be at Paddington Station tomorrow morning at ten. See him there. Put off every other engagement, and see him." "There will be no use in doing that."