"R'ally, then, it's true--isn't it--that the writing is the least part of play construction?" "Who told you that?" he asked again, this time amused. "Oh, a _very_ prominent man," she declared; and named him. Staff laughed. "A too implicit belief in that theory, Mrs. Ilkington," said he, "is responsible for the large number of perfectly good plays that somehow never get written--to say nothing of the equally large number of perfectly good playwrights who somehow never get anywhere." "Clever!" screamed the lady. "But aren't you wasteful of your epigrams?" He could cheerfully have slain her then and there; for which reason the civil gravity he preserved was all the more commendable. "And now," he persisted, "won't you tell me with whom you were discussing me in Paris?" She shook her head at him reprovingly. "You don't _know_?" "No." "You can't guess?" "Not to save me." "R'ally?" "Honestly and truly," he swore, puzzled by the undertone of light malice he thought to detect in her manner. "Then," said she with decision, "_I'm_ not going to get myself into trouble by babbling. But, if you promise to be _nice_ to me all the way home--?" She paused. "I promise," he said gravely. "Then--if you happen to be at the head of the companion-ladder when the tender comes off from Queenstown tonight--I promise you a _huge_ surprise." "You won't say more than that?" he pleaded. She appeared to debate. "Yes," she announced mischievously; "I'll give you a leading hint. The person I mean is the purchaser of the Cadogan collar." His eyes were blank. "And what, please, is the Cadogan collar?" "You don't mean to tell me you've never _heard_ of it?" She paused with dramatic effect. "Incredible! Surely, everybody knows about the Cadogan collar, the most magnificent necklace of pearls in the world!" "Everybody, it seems, but myself, Mrs. Ilkington." "R'ally!" she cried, and tapped his arm playfully. "You are as stupid as most brilliant men!" A bugle sang through the evening air. The lady started consciously. "Heavens!" she cried. "Time to dress for dinner: I must _fly_!... Have you made your table reservation yet?" "Yes," he said hastily. "Then _do_ see the second-steward at once and get transferred to our table; we have just one vacant chair. Oh, but you _must_; you've promised to be nice to me, you know. And I do so want you to meet one of my protegees--such a _sweet_ girl--a Miss Searle. I'm sure you'll be crazy about her--at least, you would be if there were no Alison Landis in your cosmos. Now, do attend to that right away. Remember you've promised." Staff bowed as she fluttered away. In his heart he was thoroughly convinced that this were a sorry scheme of things indeed did it not include a special hell for Mrs. Ilkingtons.