Miss Thirkell cried alarmingly that she had to be getting home; she had no idea the hour was so late. On Mr. Polsworthy offering to accompany her, she gave a short sharp scream and declared this impossible; he, a Londoner, little knew the appetite for scandal that existed in country villages. George, corroborating, said that if, for instance, he himself were observed escorting Miss Thirkell across the line, there were busybodies about who would assert they were as good as engaged. The visitor seemed inclined to snap fingers at public opinion, and dare it to do its worst; the young woman said this was all very well for him, but not nearly good enough for her; she had no wish to lose an excellent situation. “Character’s everything in these parts,” confirmed George. “Up in London it probably don’t matter, but here it’s important. When I leave the line—” “Will to-night at ten be a suitable time for me to call at the house to see you?” “My dear, good man,” cried Miss Thirkell, “you must be off your head to think of carrying on like that! Why, the dog would make short work of any one who wasn’t in uniform. Besides, the butler has to go down to the gate and let in everybody that comes to the party. Now I must run. You send a message through George Hunt. He’s reliable. We were boy and girl together.” With a wave of the hand she went. Mr. Polsworthy looked steadily at George for some moments. “You’re a dull dog,” he said, slowly, “and that’s the only thing which makes me inclined to trust you. If you were a sharp lad, the idea would never come into my head.” “I’m all for straightforwardness myself.” “There is no use,” said the other, with a burst of recklessness, “no sense whatever in disguising the fact that I’m madly in love with that girl. And when a man’s in love, there’s nothing he’s not prepared to do. In some way I must manage to gain admission to that house this evening.” “And in some way, you’ll have to manage to get out of it.” “An easy matter.” George looked in at the booking-hall to make sure that no passengers were about. “You’re not the first, mister, that’s tried it on,” he remarked in an undertone. “What’s that? I’m the last man in the world to do anything dishonest!” “If you are,” said George, evenly, “that means Wormwood Scrubs will have to be took over by the White City. In any case, your best plan is to treat me fairly, and treat me generously, and I’ll do what I can, so long as my name’s not brought into it. My name must be kept out, on account of mother.”