He took the message with apparent reluctance and read it through with typical care. He sat for a long time, and she thought he was searching for misspelt words--a horrible practice of his. “There is nothing about your aunt in this,” snarled Mr. Shaddles. “Mr. Dorn has been more than an aunt to me,” said Lizzy with dignity. “It is my pet name for him. And if he’s not dead, he may very well be.” He looked out of the window, scratched his rough chin angrily, then glared round at her. “You can have the day,” he said, and she nearly dropped with amazement. Murmuring her incoherent thanks, she was making for the door. “Wait.” He put his hand in his pocket, laid a note-case on the table, and took out three bank-notes. “You may not want these,” he said; “I cannot conceive that you will, but you may. I shall require you to give me a very full account of any expenses you incur. If you need a car, hire one from the Bluelight Company--they are clients of ours, and they allow me a rebate.” Like a woman in a dream, Lizzy staggered out the office. Each note was for £20. She had no idea there was so much money in the world. She did not answer the clerk whom she passed on the stairs, and had not wholly recovered by the time she reached Hiles Mansions. Mr. Dorn was not in, the liftman told her unnecessarily; and Mr. Wills had not called since the previous day. Lizzy went out into the Brompton Road, called a taxicab magnificently, and, reaching Charlotte Street, discovered she had only sufficient loose cash to pay the fare. Such a tremendous happening could not be reserved to herself, and she took Mr. Mackenzie into her confidence. “Shaddles is a grand man,” said Mackenzie soberly, “a big-hearted fellow.” Lizzy shook her head. “I don’t know whether I shall get into trouble with the police for taking this money from the poor old man,” she said. “He has been strange for a long time: I’ve seen this coming on for days. When he raised Lois Reddle’s salary to three pounds a week I knew something else would happen.” She looked at the three notes in awe. “They get like that when they’re about ninety,” she said. And then a great inspiration came to her--so daring, so tremendous, that it left her gasping. Borrowing some loose change from the old man, she dashed down to the telephone box from which she had called Hiles Mansions and gave Lady Moron’s number. The footman who answered her told her that her ladyship was in bed. “Oh, pray don’t trouble,” said Lizzy in an exaggerated tone. “Will you ask his lordship to hop along?” “To what, madam?” “To speak to me,” corrected Lizzy. “What name shall I give him?” “Tell him the Lady Elizabetta,” said Lizzy, and lolled languidly against the cork-lined ’phone box as she would have lolled had she been a person of title.