Frank was standing on the hearth-rug as Mr. Parham-Carter came in a minute or two after ten o'clock, bearing a small tray with a covered jug, two cups and a plate of cake. "Good-evening again," said the clergyman. "Have some cocoa? I generally bring mine up here.... Sit down. Make yourself comfortable." Frank said nothing. He sat down. He put his cap on the floor by his chair and leaned back. The other, with rather nervous movements, set a steaming cup by his side, and a small silver box of cigarettes, matches and an ash-tray. Then he sat down himself, took a long pull at his cocoa, and waited with a certain apprehensiveness. "Who else is here?" asked Frank abruptly. The other ran through the three names, with a short biography of each. Frank nodded, reassured at the end. "That's all right," he said. "All before my time, I expect. They might come in, you know." "Oh, no!" said the clergyman. "I told them not, and--" "Well, let's come to business," said Frank. "It's about a girl. You saw that man to-day? You saw his sort, did you? Well, he's a bad hat. And he's got a girl going about with him who isn't his wife. I want to get her home again to her people." "Yes?" "Can you do anything? (Don't say you can if you can't, please....) She comes from Chiswick. I'll give you her address before I go. But I don't want it muddled, you know." The clergyman swallowed in his throat. He had only been ordained eighteen months, and the extreme abruptness and reality of the situation took him a little aback. "I can try," he said. "And I can put the ladies on to her. But, of course, I can't undertake--" "Of course. But do you think there's a reasonable chance? If not, I'd better have another try myself." "Have you tried, then?" "Oh, yes, half a dozen times. A fortnight ago was the last, and I really thought--" "But I don't understand. Are these people your friends, or what?" "I've been traveling with them off and on since June. They belong to you, so far as they belong to anyone. I'm a Catholic, you know--" "Really? But--" "Convert. Last June. Don't let's argue, my dear chap. There isn't time." Mr. Parham-Carter drew a breath.