'What!' 'It occurred to me, sir, that by telephoning to the nearest police-station--' 'Good heavens!' cried Mr Ferguson. Two minutes later he replaced the receiver. 'It's all right,' he said. 'I've made them understand the trouble. They're bringing a ladder. I wonder what the time is? It must be about four in the morning.' Master Bean produced a Waterbury watch. 'The time, sir, is almost exactly half past ten.' 'Half past ten! We must have been here longer than three hours. Your watch is wrong.' 'No, sir, I am very careful to keep it exactly right. I do not wish to run any risk of being unpunctual.' 'Half past ten!' cried Mr Ferguson. 'Why, we're in heaps of time to look in at the Savoy for supper. This is great. I'll phone them to keep a table.' 'Supper! I thought--' She stopped. 'What's that? Thought what?' 'Hadn't you an engagement for supper?' He stared at her. 'Whatever gave you that idea? Of course not.' 'I thought you said you were taking Miss Templeton--' 'Miss Temp--Oh!' His face cleared. 'Oh, there isn't such a person. I invented her. I had to when you accused me of being like our friend the Miasma. Legitimate self-defence.' 'I do not wish to interrupt you, sir, when you are busy,' said Master Bean, 'but--' 'Come and see me tomorrow morning,' said Mr Ferguson. * * * * * 'Bob,' said the girl, as the first threatening mutters from the orchestra heralded an imminent storm of melody, 'when that boy comes tomorrow, what are going to do?' 'Call up the police.' 'No, but you must do something. We shouldn't have been here if it hadn't been for him.' 'That's true!' He pondered. 'I've got it; I'll get him a job with Raikes and Courtenay.' 'Why Raikes and Courtenay?' 'Because I have a pull with them. But principally,' said Mr Ferguson, with a devilish grin, 'because they live in Edinburgh, which, as you are doubtless aware, is a long, long way from London.' He bent across the table. 'Isn't this like old times?' he said. 'Do you remember the first time I ever ki--' Just then the orchestra broke out. THE GOOD ANGEL Any man under thirty years of age who tells you he is not afraid of an English butler lies. He may not show his fear. Outwardly he may be brave--aggressive even, perhaps to the extent of calling the great man 'Here!' or 'Hi!' But, in his heart, when he meets that, cold, blue, introspective eye, he quakes. The effect that Keggs, the butler at the Keiths', had on Martin Rossiter was to make him feel as if he had been caught laughing in a cathedral. He fought against the feeling. He asked himself who Keggs was, anyway; and replied defiantly that Keggs was a Menial--and an overfed Menial. But all the while he knew that logic was useless. When the Keiths had invited him to their country home he had been delighted. They were among his oldest friends. He liked Mr Keith. He liked Mrs Keith. He loved Elsa Keith, and had done so from boyhood.