"I picked him up on the beach," said Jean coolly, "as any flapper would pick up any nut." Mr. Briggerland choked. "I hate to hear you talking like that, Jean. Who introduced him?" "I told you," she said complacently. "I introduced myself. I talked to him on the beach and he talked to me, and we sat down and played with the sand and discussed one another's lives." "But how enterprising of you, Jean," said the admiring Lydia. Mr. Briggerland was going to say something, but thought better of it. There was a concert at the theatre that night and the whole party went. They had a box, and the interval had come before Lydia saw somebody ushered into a box on the other side of the house with such evidence of deference that she would have known who he was even if she had not seen the scarlet fez and the white robe. "It is your Muley," she whispered. Jean looked round. Muley Hafiz was looking across at her; his eyes immediately sought the girl's, and he bowed slightly. "What the devil is he bowing at?" grumbled Mr. Briggerland. "You didn't take any notice of him, did you, Jean?" "I bowed to him," said his daughter, not troubling to look round. "Don't be silly, father; anyway, if he weren't nice, it would be quite the right thing to do. I'm the most distinguished woman in the house because I know Muley Hafiz, and he has bowed to me! Don't you realise the social value of a lion's recognition?" Lydia could not see him distinctly. She had an impression of a white face, two large black spaces where his eyes were and a black beard. He sat all the time in the shadow of a curtain. Jean looked round to see if Marcus Stepney was present, hoping that he had witnessed the exchange of courtesies, but Marcus at that moment was watching little bundles of twelve thousand franc notes raked across to the croupier's end of the table--which is the business end of Monte Carlo. Jean was the last to leave the car when it set them down at the Villa Casa. Mordon called her respectfully. "Excuse me, mademoiselle," he said, "I wish you would come to the garage and see the new tyres that have arrived. I don't like them." It was a code which she had agreed he should use when he wanted her. "Very good, Mordon, I will come to the garage later," she said carelessly. "What does Mordon want you for?" asked her father, with a frown. "You heard him. He doesn't approve of some new tyres that have been bought for the car," she said coolly. "And don't ask me questions. I've got a headache and I'm dying for a cup of chocolate." "If that fellow gives you any trouble he'll be sorry," said Briggerland. "And let me tell you this, Jean, that marriage idea of yours----" She only looked at him, but he knew the look and wilted. "I don't want to interfere with your private affairs," he mumbled, "but the very thought of it gets me crazy." The garage was a brick building erected by the side of the carriage drive, built much nearer the house than is usually the case.