Friday morning found Mr. Minot ready for whatever diplomacy the day might demand of him. He had a feeling that the demand would be great. The unheralded arrival of Miss Gabrielle Rose and her packet of letters presented no slight complication. Whatever the outcome of any suit she might start against Harrowby, Minot was sure that the mere announcement of it would be sufficient to blast Jephson's hopes for all time. Old Spencer Meyrick, already inflamed by the episode of the elder brother, was not likely to take coolly the publication of Harrowby's incriminating letters. After an early breakfast, Minot sent a cable to Jephson telling of Miss Rose's arrival and asking for information about her. Next he sought an interview with the Gaiety lady. An hour later, in a pink and gold parlor of the Hotel de la Pax, he stood gazing into the china-blue eyes of Miss Gabrielle Rose. It goes without saying that Miss Rose was pretty; innocent she seemed, too, with a baby stare that said as plainly as words: "Please don't harm me, will you?" But--ah, well, Lord Harrowby was not the first to learn that a business woman may lurk back of a baby stare. "You come from Lord Harrowby?" And the smile that had decorated ten million postcards throughout the United Kingdom flashed on Mr. Minot. "Won't you sit down?" "Thanks." Minot fidgeted. He had no idea what to say. Time--it was time he must fight for, as he was fighting with Trimmer. "Er--Miss Rose," he began, "when I started out on this errand I had misgivings. But now that I have seen you, they are gone. Everything will be all right, I know. I have come to ask that you show Lord Harrowby some leniency." The china-blue eyes hardened. "You have come on a hopeless errand, Mr--er--Minot. Why should I show Harrowby any consideration? Did he show me any--when he broke his word to me and made me the laughing-stock of the town?" "But that all happened five years ago--" "Yes, but it is as vivid as though it were yesterday. I have always intended to demand some redress from his lordship. But my art--Mr.--Mr. Minot--you have no idea how exacting art can be. Not until now have I been in a position to do so." "And the fact that not until now has his lordship proposed to marry some one else--that of course has nothing to do with it?" "Mr. Minot!" A delightful pout. "If you knew me better you could not possibly ask that." "Miss Rose, you're a clever woman--" "Oh, please don't. I hate clever women, and I'm sure you do, too. I'm not a bit clever, and I'm proud of it. On the contrary, I'm rather weak--rather easily got round. But when I think of the position Allan put me in--even a weak woman can be firm in the circumstances." "Have it your own way," said Minot, bowing. "But you are at least clever enough to understand the futility of demanding financial redress from a man who is flat broke. I assure you Lord Harrowby hasn't a shilling."