'Practical,' said Mr Mennick. 'There is more. "Before doing anything else sack that fool of a tutor, then go to Agency and have them recommend good private school for boy. On no account engage another tutor. They make me tired. Fix all this today. Send Ogden back to Eastnor with Mrs Sheridan. She will stay there with him till further notice." That is Mr Ford's message.' Mr Mennick folded both documents carefully and replaced them in his pocket. Mrs Ford looked at the clock. 'And now, would you mind going, Mr Mennick?' 'I am sorry to appear discourteous, Mrs Ford, but I cannot go without Ogden.' 'I shall telephone to the office to send up a porter to remove you.' 'I shall take advantage of his presence to ask him to fetch a policeman.' In the excitement of combat the veneer of apologetic diffidence was beginning to wear off Mr Mennick. He spoke irritably. Cynthia appealed to his reason with the air of a bored princess descending to argument with a groom. 'Can't you see for yourself that he's not here?' she said. 'Do you think we are hiding him?' 'Perhaps you would like to search my bedroom?' said Mrs Ford, flinging the door open. Mr Mennick remained uncrushed. 'Quite unnecessary, Mrs Ford. I take it, from the fact that he does not appear to be in this suite, that he is downstairs making a late luncheon in the restaurant.' 'I shall telephone--' 'And tell them to send him up. Believe me, Mrs Ford, it is the only thing to do. You have my deepest sympathy, but I am employed by Mr Ford and must act solely in his interests. The law is on my side. I am here to fetch Ogden away, and I am going to have him.' 'You shan't!' 'I may add that, when I came up here, I left Mrs Sheridan--she is a fellow-secretary of mine. You may remember Mr Ford mentioning her in his telegram--I left her to search the restaurant and grill-room, with instructions to bring Ogden, if found, to me in this room.' The door-bell rang. He went to the door and opened it. 'Come in, Mrs Sheridan. Ah!' A girl in a plain, neat blue dress entered the room. She was a small, graceful girl of about twenty-five, pretty and brisk, with the air of one accustomed to look after herself in a difficult world. Her eyes were clear and steady, her mouth sensitive but firm, her chin the chin of one who has met trouble and faced it bravely. A little soldier. She was shepherding Ogden before her, a gorged but still sullen Ogden. He sighted Mr Mennick and stopped. 'Hello!' he said. 'What have you blown in for?' 'He was just in the middle of his lunch,' said the girl. 'I thought you wouldn't mind if I let him finish.' 'Say, what's it all about, anyway?' demanded Ogden crossly. 'Can't a fellow have a bit of grub in peace? You give me a pain.' Mr Mennick explained. 'Your father wishes you to return to Eastnor, Ogden.' 'Oh, all right. I guess I'd better go, then. Good-bye, ma.' Mrs Ford choked. 'Kiss me, Ogden.'