The door at this moment opened, and Desborough appeared upon the threshold. He was wrapped in a long waterproof, imperfectly supplied with buttons; his boots were full of water, his hat greasy with service; and yet he wore the air of one exceeding well content with life. He was hailed by the two others with exclamations of surprise and welcome. ‘And did you try the detective business?’ inquired Paul. ‘No,’ returned Harry. ‘Oh yes, by the way, I did though: twice, and got caught out both times. But I thought I should find my—my wife here?’ he added, with a kind of proud confusion. ‘What? are you married?’ cried Somerset. ‘Oh yes,’ said Harry, ‘quite a long time: a month at least.’ ‘Money?’ asked Challoner. ‘That’s the worst of it,’ Desborough admitted. ‘We are deadly hard up. But the Pri--- Mr. Godall is going to do something for us. That is what brings us here.’ ‘Who was Mrs. Desborough?’ said Challoner, in the tone of a man of society. ‘She was a Miss Luxmore,’ returned Harry. ‘You fellows will be sure to like her, for she is much cleverer than I. She tells wonderful stories, too; better than a book.’ And just then the door opened, and Mrs. Desborough entered. Somerset cried out aloud to recognise the young lady of the Superfluous Mansion, and Challoner fell back a step and dropped his cigar as he beheld the sorceress of Chelsea. ‘What!’ cried Harry, ‘do you both know my wife?’ ‘I believe I have seen her,’ said Somerset, a little wildly. ‘I think I have met the gentleman,’ said Mrs. Desborough sweetly; ‘but I cannot imagine where it was.’ ‘Oh no,’ cried Somerset fervently: ‘I have no notion—I cannot conceive—where it could have been. Indeed,’ he continued, growing in emphasis, ‘I think it highly probable that it’s a mistake.’ ‘And you, Challoner?’ asked Harry, ‘you seemed to recognise her too.’ ‘These are both friends of yours, Harry?’ said the lady. ‘Delighted, I am sure. I do not remember to have met Mr. Challoner.’ Challoner was very red in the face, perhaps from having groped after his cigar. ‘I do not remember to have had the pleasure,’ he responded huskily. ‘Well, and Mr. Godall?’ asked Mrs. Desborough. ‘Are you the lady that has an appointment with old—’ began Somerset, and paused blushing. ‘Because if so,’ he resumed, ‘I was to announce you at once.’