Three-thirty! Well, Thacker and Jephson had asked the impossible, that was all. Minot felt he had done his best. No man could do more. He was very sorry for Jephson, but--golden before him opened the possibility of Miss Cynthia Meyrick free to be wooed. Yet he must be faithful to the last. At a quarter to four he read Jephson's cablegram again. As he read, a plan ridiculous in its ineffectiveness occurred to him. And since no other came in the interval before four, he walked into Miss Rose's presence determined to try out his weak little bluff. The Gaiety lady was playing on the piano--a whispering, seductive little tune. As Minot stepped to her side she glanced up at him with a coy inviting smile. But she drew back a little at his determined glare. "Miss Rose," he said sharply, "I have discovered that you can not sue Lord Harrowby for breach of contract to marry you." "Why--why not?" she stammered. "Because," said Minot, with a triumphant smile--though it was a shot in the dark--"you already had a husband when those letters were written to you." Well, he had done his best. A rather childish effort, but what else was there to attempt? Poor old Jephson! "Nonsense," said the Gaiety lady, and continued to play. "Nothing of the sort," Minot replied. "Why, I can produce the man himself." Might as well go the limit while he was about it. That should be his consolation when Jephson lost. Might as well--but what was this? Gabrielle Rose had turned livid with anger. Her lips twitched, her china-blue eyes flashed fire. If only her lawyer had been by her side then! But he wasn't. And so she cried hotly: "He's told! The little brute's told!" Good lord! Minot felt his knees weaken. A shot in the dark--had it hit the target after all? "If you refer to your husband," said Minot, "he has done just that." "He's not my husband," she snapped. Oh, what was the use? Providence was with Jephson. "No, of course not--not since the divorce," Minot answered. "But he was when those letters were written." The Gaiety lady's chin began to tremble. "And he promised me, on his word of honor, that he wouldn't tell. But I suppose you found him easy. What honor could one expect in a Persian carpet dealer?" A Persian carpet dealer? Into Minot's mind floated a scrap of conversation heard at Mrs. Bruce's table. "But you must remember," he ventured, "that he is also a prince." "Yes," said the woman, "that's what I thought when I married him. He's the prince of liars--that's as far as his royal blood goes." A silence, while Miss Gabrielle Rose felt in her sleeve for her handkerchief. "I suppose," Minot suggested, "you will abandon the suit--" She looked at him. Oh, the pathos of that baby stare! "You are acting in this matter simply as Harrowby's friend?" she asked. "Simply as his friend." "And--so far--only you know of my--er--ex-husband?"