"You think that I ought to get up and--er--see the lady?" Stevens made no reply, but he held his back very stiff and Jimmy read the signs correctly. "Oh! very well," he said. "I suppose I'd better. She didn't give her name?" "No, sir." "H'm. She couldn't be by any possible chance my Aunt Jemima, could she? Because if so, I'm damned if I'm going to get up." "The lady, sir, could not possibly be anyone's aunt, I should say, unless the youngest of a large family." "Aha," said Jimmy. "Young and lovely. Is she--what kind is she?" "The young lady, sir, is most undoubtedly strictly _comme il faut_, if I may use the expression." "You may use it," said Jimmy graciously. "Your French pronunciation, Stevens, if I may say so, is very good. Much better than mine." "I am gratified to hear it, sir. I have lately been taking a correspondence course in French." "Have you really? You're a wonderful chap, Stevens." Stevens smiled in a superior fashion and left the room. Jimmy lay trying to recall the names of any young and lovely girls strictly _comme il faut_ who might be likely to come and call upon him. Stevens re-entered with fresh tea, and as Jimmy sipped it he felt a pleasurable curiosity. "You've given her the paper and all that, I hope, Stevens," he said. "I supplied her with the _Morning Post_ and _Punch_, sir." A ring at the bell took him away. In a few minutes he returned. "Another young lady, sir." "What?" Jimmy clutched his head. "Another young lady; she declines to give her name, sir, but says her business is important." Jimmy stared at him. "This is damned odd, Stevens. Damned odd. Look here, what time did I come home last night?" "Just upon five o'clock, sir." "And was I--er--how was I?" "Just a little cheerful, sir--nothing more. Inclined to sing 'Rule Britannia.'" "What an extraordinary thing," said Jimmy. "'Rule Britannia,' eh? I cannot imagine myself in a sober state ever singing 'Rule Britannia.' Some latent patriotism must have emerged under the stimulus of--er--just a couple too many. I was celebrating at the 'Mustard and Cress,' I remember. Not nearly such an innocent spot as it sounds, Stevens." He paused. "I was wondering--" "Yes, sir?" "I was wondering whether under the aforementioned stimulus I had put an advertisement in a newspaper asking for a nursery governess or something of that sort." Stevens coughed. "_Two_ girls turning up. It looks odd. I shall eschew the 'Mustard and Cress' in future. That's a good word, Stevens--_eschew_--I met it in a cross-word the other day and took a fancy to it." Whilst he was talking Jimmy was rapidly apparelling himself. At the end of ten minutes he was ready to face his unknown guests. As he opened the door of his sitting-room the first person he saw was a dark, slim girl who was totally unknown to him. She was standing by the mantelpiece, leaning against it. Then his glance went on to the big leather covered arm-chair, and his heart missed a beat. Loraine!