"Bless my soul!" said he, staring. An instant later he had recovered himself. "Take my coat, Thomas. Come in, Lady--er--Miss Emsdale. Thank you. Run along, Thomas. This is--ah--a most unexpected pleasure." The door closed behind Thomas. "Pray have a chair, Miss Emsdale. Still quite cold, isn't it?" "I sha'n't detain you for more than five or ten minutes," said Miss Emsdale, sinking into a chair. "At your service,--quite at your service," said Mr. Cricklewick, dissolving in the presence of nobility. He could not have helped himself to save his life. Miss Emsdale came to the point at once. To save _her_ life she could not think of Cricklewick as anything but an upper servant. "Please see if we are quite alone, Mr. Cricklewick," she said, laying aside her little fur neck-piece. Mr. Cricklewick started. Like a flash there shot into his brain the voiceless groan: "It's always something." However, he made haste to assure her that they would not be disturbed. "It is closing time, you see," he concluded, not without hope. "I could not get here any earlier," she explained. "I stopped in to ask a little favour of you, Mr. Cricklewick." "You have only to mention it," said he, and then abruptly looked at his watch. The thought struck him that perhaps he did not have enough in his bill-folder; if not, it would be necessary to catch the cashier before the safe was closed for the day. "Lord Temple is in trouble, Mr. Cricklewick," she said, a queer little catch in her voice. "I--I am sorry to hear that," said he. "And I do not know of any one who is in a better position to help him than you," she went on coolly. "I shall be happy to be of service to Lord Temple," said Mr. Cricklewick, but not very heartily. Observation had taught him that young noblemen seldom if ever get into trouble half way; they make a practice of going in clean over their heads. "Owing to an unpleasant misunderstanding with Mr. Stuyvesant Smith-Parvis, he has lost his situation as chauffeur for Mr. Carpenter," said she. "I hope he has not--ahem!--thumped him," said Mr. Cricklewick, in such dismay that he allowed the extremely undignified word to slip out. She smiled faintly. "I said unpleasant, Mr. Cricklewick,--not pleasant." "Bless my soul," said Mr. Cricklewick, blinking. "Mr. Smith-Parvis has prevailed upon Mr. Carpenter to dismiss him, and I fear, between them, they are planning to drive him out of the city in disgrace." "Bless me! This is too bad." Without divulging the cause of Smith-Parvis's animosity, she went briefly into the result thereof. "It is really infamous," she concluded, her eyes flashing. "Don't you agree with me?" Having it put to him so abruptly as that, Mr. Cricklewick agreed with her. "Well, then, we must put our heads together, Mr. Cricklewick," she said, with decision. "Quite so," said he, a little vaguely. "He is not to be driven out of the city," said she. "Nor is he to be unjustly accused of--of wrongdoing. We must see to that."