“Of course!” she said. “I've been wanting a chat with Millicent Gower, but Bobby has required so much entertaining--” She smiled again, this time at Blessington, and moved away towards a pale girl in green who was standing alone. Instantly she had turned Loder took Blessington's arm. “I know you're tremendously busy,” he began--in an excellent imitation of Chilcote's hasty manner--“I know you're tremendously busy, but I'm in a fix.” One glance at Blessington's healthy, ingenuous face told him that plain speaking was the method to adopt. “Indeed, sir?” In a moment Blessington was on the alert. “Yes. And I--I want your help.” The boy reddened. That Chilcote should appeal to him stirred him to an uneasy feeling of pride and uncertainty. Loder saw his advantage and pressed it home. “It's come about through this crystal-gazing business. I'm afraid I didn't play my part--rather made an ass of myself; I wouldn't swallow the thing, and--and Lady Astrupp--” He paused, measuring Blessington with a glance. “Well, my dear boy, you--you know what women are!” Blessington was only twenty-three. He reddened again, and assumed an air of profundity. “I know sir,” he said, with a shake of the head. Loder's sense of humor was keen, but he kept a grave face. “I knew you'd catch my meaning; but I want you to do something more. If Lady Astrupp should ask you who was in her tent this past ten minutes, I want you--” Again he stopped, looking at his companion's face. “Yes, sir?” “I want you to tell an immaterial lie for me.” Blessington returned his glance; then he laughed a little uncomfortably. “But surely, sir--” “She recognized me, you mean?” Loder's eyes were as keen as steel. “Yes.” “Then you're wrong. She didn't.” Blessington's eyebrows went up. There was silence. Loder glanced across the room. Eve had parted from the girl in green and was moving towards them, exchanging smiles and greetings as she came. “My wife is coming back,” he said. “Will you do this for me, Blessington? It--it will smooth things--” He spoke quickly, continuing to watch Eve. As he had hoped, Blessington's eyes turned in the same direction. “'Twill smooth matters,” he repeated, “smooth them in--in a domestic way that I can't explain.” The shot told. Blessington looked round. “Right, sir!” he said. “You may leave it to me,” And before Loder could speak again he had turned and disappeared into the crowd. XVI