They looked at each other diffidently. Posy stretched out her hand. She felt that this was due to an artist who might reasonably infer that he was not held in the highest esteem by his master’s daughter. James hesitated for one moment only. Then he kissed her hand. She quivered. He ran his hungry lips along her slender wrist. She thrilled and sighed. He took her into his arms and kissed her masterfully, feeling her heart throbbing beneath his own. Presently they discussed the future, although loath indeed to leave the present. "What will father say?" "Darling, you must let me deal with your father." "Can you?" "I think so. I am sure of it. We must be patient and very, very careful." "I should like to tell mother." "No, no! Believe me that would be a blunder. She would tell him. For the moment we must love secretly." She sighed deliciously. "It does sound exciting and romantic. Of course you know best." "I do!" he replied grimly. "I know that I shall have to fight for you. I mean to fight. You’ll see. But we must be extra careful. A look——! We can write to each other." Her smooth forehead puckered. "Can we? Father always deals out the letters. He would think nothing of opening mine if he suspected." "I have a plan." "What! You have made plans? You were sure of me?" "No, no! Never sure. Torn in two, I was, between hope and fear, but I made plans all the same. Look here, we can use that lac cabinet as a pillar-box." "Father’s precious cabinet?" "He never opens it; the drawers are empty; the key is in the lock." Together they approached the cabinet, one of the "gems." Upon the top of it stood the K’ang He mirror-black jar much beloved by Quinney. James opened the cabinet, almost more beautiful within than without. He indicated a drawer. "Pop your letters into that. Then lock the cabinet and hide the key in the mirror-black bottle." "What a splendid idea!" "Isn’t it? If he misses the key, you will be asked to find it, and you will find it. Then we can choose another pillar-box. You will post your letters, dearest, in the morning, when you are dusting here. In the middle of the day, while you are lunching, I shall get your letter and post one of my own. That way we run no risks at all." "You are quite wonderful!" Susan had used the same words to her Joe twenty years before. *CHAPTER XVII* *INTRODUCES CYRUS P. HUNSAKER* *I* Some three weeks later the "restored" Chippendale chairs were sold on a by-day at Christopher’s famous auction rooms, and, as the public prints set forth, were secured after spirited competition for nine hundred pounds by Mr. Joseph Quinney, of Soho Square. There had been, according to the reporters, a duel _à outrance_ between Quinney and Tomlin for the possession of these magnificent chairs.