Pretending concern in her, had he not really joined the camp of her enemies and detractors, the _volte face_ thing! Of course, if the Ole Walrus knew! If she were to confide the ultimate purpose of her crystal soul and stalactitic heart to him, spill the beans of what was on her mind--it would be different. He'd cling to her very stirrup and hop along clamoring for his piece of the pickings. But she could see he was passé, declassé, a prune pit in every way. The perfumed gold mines of Newport and Palm Beach were his best berry-picking grounds. To take him with her--impossible! It would not only confuse the issue but crab the act. Absolutely. She knew that in the romantic but in conclusion pre-eminently profitable rumble she had in mind, Lord Tawdry could only prove a hang-nail, that is to say a detriment to the scheme. She saw him readjust his monocle twelve times and yawn six and knew he was going to say something. Not much--he never did. But---- "Blast it, Verbeena, you little rotter, what the deuce I say, you know, is all this bally, bloomin', sand-eatin' desert journey about anyway? I say, my dear chappie, what _is_ the idea?" "None of your damned biznai, old thing. And there you have it." "But I should really so like to know." "Tosh!" "But all the Mollie Jawags back at the Biscuit will jazz me awf'ly about permitting you to tack off alone this way with----" Lord Tawdry waved his hand toward Musty Ale and his turbaned crew. "As if it would really worry you," said Miss Mayonnaise with a very unboyish giggle. "It doesn't, I confess, since Bertie Butternut's mother is financing you. And yet--no, I can't allow it. I couldn't face it. I couldn't lift me head if anything--er--anything, let us say, Oriental happened." "Well, you are seldom able to lift your head after ten in the morning anyway," said Verbeena. "Let us waste no more time, my beloved brother. Get into mental condition with yourself quickly and know that for the next month a kid of the desert am I. Ain't I twenty-one now? Got a vote that's just as good as yours at 'ome, and a punch that I think is better. "Nothing stops me--Tawd, nothing, old top. So take a spin for yourself back to the Biscuit. And whatever thinking you do you can start all over again from there." Verbeena paused, astonished at herself. She hadn't lighted a cigarette for forty seconds! She got one going immediately and as she puffed voraciously at her fag watched with keen pleasure the furrows gather on her brother's small patch of sun-kissed brow. Within two minutes, quite suddenly for him, Lord Tawdry drew a revolver. "Not to--to hint nothin', Verbie," he said "but you are to come back to the hotel with me directly. Directly, do you hear?" He looked at her impressively and shot at a camel. He hit a palm tree. "I say you know!" he said and stared at his weapon stupidly. "I never----" He shot again. This time at the palm tree. But the camel neatly ducked.