"Of course I know," broke in Diana irritably, "seeing that I'm asked to it." Jerry continued patiently. "And she wants you as a special favour to sing for her. As a matter of fact there are to be one or two bigwigs there whom she thinks it might be useful for you to meet--influence, you know," he added, waving his hand expansively, "push, shove, hacking, wire-pulling--" "Oh, be quiet, Jerry," interrupted Diana, laughing in spite of herself. "It's no good, you know. It's dear of Adrienne to think of it, but Baroni won't let me do it. He hasn't allowed me to sing anywhere this last year." "Doesn't want to take the cream off the milk, I suppose," said Jerry, with a grin. "But, as a matter of fact, he _has_ given permission this time. Miss de Gervais went to see him about it herself, and he's consented. I've got a letter for you from the old chap"--producing it as he spoke. "Adrienne is a marvel," said Diana, as she slit the flap of the envelope. "I'm sure Baroni would have refused any one else, but she seems to be able to twist him round her little finger." "Dear Mis Quentin"--Baroni had written in his funny, cramped handwriting--"You may sing for Miss de Gervais. I have seen the list of guests and it can do no harm--possibly a little good. Yours very sincerely, CARLO BARONI." "Miss de Gervais must have a 'way' with her," said Jerry meditatively. "I observe that even my boss always does her bidding like a lamb." Diana poured herself out a second cup of tea before she asked negligently:-- "When's your 'boss' returning? It seems to me he's allowing you to live the life of the idle rich. Will he be back for Adrienne's reception?" "No. About a week afterwards, I expect." "Where's he been?" "Oh, all over the shop--I've had letters from him from half the capitals in Europe. But he's been in Russia longest of all, I think." "Russia?"--musingly. "I suppose he isn't a Russian by any chance?" "I've never asked him," returned Jerry shortly. "He is certainly not pure English. Look at his high cheek-bones. And his temperament isn't English, either," she added, with a secret smile. Jerry remained silent. "Don't you think it's rather funny that we none of us know anything about him?--I mean beyond the mere fact that his name is Errington and that he's a well-known playwright." "Why do you want to know more?" growled Jerry. "Well, I think there is something behind, something odd about him. Olga Lermontof is always hinting that there is." "Look here, Diana," said Jerry, getting rather red. "Don't let's talk about Errington. You know we always get shirty with each other when we do. I'm not going to pry into his private concerns--and as for Miss Lermontof, she's the type of woman who simply revels in making mischief." "But it _is_ funny Mr. Errington should be so--so reserved about himself," persisted Diana. "Hasn't he ever told you anything?"