"I shall run in tomorrow and tell him about Dr. Brodax," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis firmly. "He ought to see the best man in the city, of course, and no one--" "For the Lord's sake, don't let him get into the clutches of that man Brodax," interrupted Mrs. Millidew. "He is--" "No, thank you, Mr. Paddock,--I sha'n't wait. Another day will do just as well. Come, Miss Emsdale. Good-bye, my dear. Come and see me." "Dr. Brown stands at the very top of the profession as a heart specialist. He--" "I've never heard of him," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis icily, and led the way to the sidewalk, her head very high. You could say almost anything you pleased to Mrs. Smith-Parvis about her husband, or her family, or her religion, or even her figure, but you couldn't belittle her doctor. That was lese-majesty. She wouldn't have it. A more or less peaceful expedition came to grief within sixty seconds after its members reached the sidewalk,--and in a most astonishing manner. Stuyvesant was in a nasty humour. He had not noticed Thomas Trotter before. Coming upon the tall young man suddenly, after turning the corner of the building, he was startled into an expression of disgust. Trotter was holding open the limousine door for Mrs. Millidew, the elder. Young Mr. Smith-Parvis stopped short and stared in a most offensive manner at Mrs. Millidew's chauffeur. "By gad, you weren't long in getting a job after Carpenter fired you, were you? Fish!" Now, there is no way in the world to recall the word "fish" after it has been uttered in the tone employed by Stuyvesant. Ordinarily it is a most inoffensive word, and signifies something delectable. In French it is _poisson_, and we who know how to pronounce it say it with pleasure and gusto, quite as we say _pomme de terre_ when we mean potato. If Stuyvesant had said _poisson_, the chances are that nothing would have happened. But he didn't. He said fish. No doubt Thomas Trotter was in a bad humour also. He was a very sensible young man, and there was no reason why he should be jealous of Stuyvesant Smith-Parvis. He had it from Miss Emsdale herself that she loathed and despised the fellow. And yet he saw red when she passed him a quarter of an hour before with Stuyvesant at her side. For some time he had been harassed by the thought that if she had not caught sight of him as she left the car, the young man's offer of assistance might not have been spurned. In any event, there certainly was something queer afoot. Why was she driving about with Mrs. Smith-Parvis,--_and_ Stuyvesant,--as if she were one of the family and not a paid employé? In the twinkling of an eye, Thomas Trotter forgot that he was a chauffeur. He remembered only that he was Lord Eric Carruthers Ethelbert Temple, the grandson of a soldier, the great-grandson of a soldier, and the great-great grandson of a soldier whose father and grandfather had been soldiers before him.