For my part, I went very much out of my way to be pleasant to the Russian, although not too obviously, I hope. And presently, after the tea-things had been cleared away by a slant-eyed servant, I drew him into a discussion on the war and its ultimate effect upon his country, while the two women talked clothes or something. I laid myself out to be both sympathetic and entertaining. At all events, the moment came when I felt justified in asking him to give me the pleasure of taking him to lunch the following day, and he accepted readily enough. If there was anything to be learned from him I was determined to make an attempt to learn it. And I believed that Natalie’s first statement about the tea was correct. She was exceedingly healthy and not given to violent moods. Afterwards, Mrs. Fawcette had to hurry home to dress for a dinner engagement, and I took Natalie back to her aunt’s house. When our taxi pulled up in front of the house it was nearly dinner-time, and we both had engagements. But I detained her for a moment longer. “Listen, Natalie! Will you do me a very big favor?” I asked her, as we mounted her aunt’s steps. She threw me a smiling glance of inquiry. “It is a big favor,” I warned her. “And this is it: Will you promise to tell me before you go there again for any more of that wonderful tea?” Natalie looked at me in wonder. “How funny you are to-day,” she said at last. “Don’t you like Mrs. Fawcette or Ivanovitch?” “Not very much, I confess. But I like the idea of that drugged tea even less, Natalie. Promise, please!” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve got to go and dress, you importunate man,” she laughed, “so—I’ll promise. Though I haven’t the slightest idea why I should.” At all events, I went down her aunt’s front steps treading on something much less substantial. Chapter VIII Amateur Burglary Next morning, which was Thursday, at breakfast, Larry smashed a cup and saucer, burned his hand and almost established a reputation for nerves. He was giving me my breakfast at the time and had a cup of hot coffee in his hand. My question was mild enough, too. “Larry,” I asked him, “where could I buy a kit of burglar’s tools?” Larry stared. “D’ye mean jemmies an’ that, sor?” “That’s just what I mean!” Larry stared. “Sure, d’ye think I’d be usin’ them, thin?” “On the contrary, Larry,” I told him calmly, “I want to use them myself. You see, I intend to become a burglar.” It was then that Larry dropped the coffee-cup, burning his hand rather badly. I waited until he had finished hopping around the room, and until the really remarkable richness and variety of his profanity had exhausted itself. Then I told him a little about my plans for that afternoon.