As it happened, I was spared the trouble, though not the subsequent responsibility, of putting Miss Levey off for the following Wednesday evening. On the morning of that very day, as I took Judy a number of drafts, he said, in Miss Levey's hearing, "Are you doing anything to-night?" "To-night? I'm afraid I am," I replied, though solely for Miss Levey's benefit. "To-morrow I'm not." "To-morrow won't do. You're a dashed difficult man to get, Jeffries!" "You should have given me a little notice," I said, though foreseeing already that Pepper would eat Miss Levey's supper that night. "Well, we'll talk about it presently; if you can possibly put your engagement off, do.... Now, Miss Levey----" He began to give instructions to Miss Levey. Later in the morning Miss Levey sought me. "Oh, Mr Jeffries," she began, very _empressée_, "I think we won't come to-night. Mr Pepper----" "It is rather awkward," I admitted. "I'm awfully sorry----" "Please don't apologise. It really doesn't matter. I can come up any evening, you know." "Well, in that case----" "We'll fix another evening. I know you and Mr Pepper have private affairs." "Yes," I thought, not very graciously, "and to be in at 'em's the only thing you want more than to pry into my domestic ones." But aloud I said, "It's awfully good of you--do tell Mr Aschael how sorry I am." So it was Judy Pepper, and not Miriam Levey and Aschael, who dined at Verandah Cottage that night. Were it for no other reason than to let you know a little of these Schmerveloff neighbours of mine I should have to tell you of Judy's visit that evening. This sounds a little portentous, as if my tale were about to take a sensational turn, with bombs and secret agents in it. Be calm, it is not; I only mention these Schmerveloffs as standing, in a way, for certain forces of which Pepper and I intended to make use. A very few words will explain what I mean.