she had found this line of conduct useful in her relations toward her employers; by contrast it flattered both their superior brains and their superior positions. I allow for her natural taste, for her standards of gentility. But she was a snob, too, "Poor Chat," and a time-server. No harder words than those need be used about her--and they are too hard perhaps; for there is one thing to be said on the other side--and it is a thing of weight. Chat was fifty; as a governess she was hopelessly out of date; I do not suppose that she saw her daily bread secure for three months ahead. For a hundred pounds a year certain--secure from the caprice of employers or of fate--she would probably have done or been anything--even, so far as she could, honest. But honesty alone, as she may well have reflected, does not breed security of tenure in subordinate positions. I am far from saying that it ought; on the whole I consider it to be a commoner, and therefore a cheaper and more easily obtainable--and replaceable--commodity than either a good brain or an agreeable demeanor. At any rate how easily it may come near to costing a man his place I was very soon to discover by my own experience. Well, perhaps, to honesty I ought to add a lack of diplomacy and a temper naturally hot. But I am not sure: I cannot see how any man could have done anything very different--given that he was barely honest. "There's a person in the drawing-room with the ladies, sir," said Loft one day when I came up to tea at four o'clock. Loft's social terminology was exact. When he said a "person" he did not mean a "gentleman"--who was a gentleman--nor a "man"--who was a member of the definitely lower orders of the community; he meant somebody in between, one of the doubtful cases. "A Mr. Powers, sir. He's been here perhaps half an hour." It may readily be supposed that I had not forgotten the name of Powers; the name and the incident were irrevocably--and uncomfortably--fixed in my mind. This "person" might not be the same Powers, but in overwhelming probability he was. Even if Jenny had not been in communication with him--and I did not believe that she had--the paragraphs would easily have brought about this visit--or visitation. He came scenting prey--he had read of the heiress! But why had she let him in? "Did he give you a card, Loft?" "Yes, sir. I took it in, and Miss Driver told me to ask the person to come in." If it were not material, neither was it necessary to ask what Loft thought about the matter. Plainly Mr. Powers was not up to his standard for drawing-room visitors. "Have you got the card?" He took it from the hall table. "Mr. Nelson Powers." There was no address. "All right, Loft. But before I join them, I want to telephone to London." Of course Mr. Driver had installed a telephone, and many a day we had kept it very busy. By luck I got into speedy communication with Cartmell at his hotel. He heard my news. His answer was to the point: "Kick him out."