"Do you want me to come back?" asked the young fellow. "I don't mind if you do; I'm quite ready to return----" "Not at all, my dear chap," said his lordship. "I fancied you might care to hear how matters are going in the Dankmere Galleries." "Of course I do, but I rather hoped nothing in particular would happen for a week or so----" "Plenty has. You know those experts of yours, Valasco, Drayton-Quinn, and that Hollander Van Boschoven. Well, they don't get on. Each has come to me privately, and in turn, and told me that the others were no good----" "Your rôle is to remain amiable and non-committal," said Quarren. "Let them talk----" "Valasco and Drayton-Quinn won't speak, and Van Boschoven has notified me that he declines to come to the house as long as either of the others are there." "Very well; arrange to have them there on different days." "I don't think Valasco will come back at all." "Why not?" "Because--the fact is--I believe I practically--so to speak--hit him." "What!" "Fact, old chap." "Why?" "Well, he asked me if I knew more about anything than I did about pictures. I didn't catch his drift for about an hour--but then it came to me, and I got up out of my chair and walked over and punched his head. I don't think he'll come back, do you?" "No, I don't. What else have you been doing?" said Quarren angrily. "Nothing. One picture--the Raeburn portrait--has a bad hole in it." "How did it happen?" "Rather extraordinary thing, that! I was giving a most respectable card party--some ladies and gentlemen of sorts--from the Winter Garden I believe--and one of the ladies inadvertently shyed a glass at another lady----" "For Heaven's sake, Dankmere----" "Quite right old chap--my fault entirely--I won't do it again. But, do you know, the gallery already has become a most popular resort. People are coming and going all day--a lot of dealers among them I suspect--and there have been a number of theatrical people who want to hire pictures for certain productions to be staged next winter----" "We don't do that sort of thing!" "That's what I thought; but there was one very fetching girl who opens in 'Ancestors' next October----" "No, no, no!" "Right-o! I'll tell her at luncheon.... I say, Quarren: Karl Westguard wants the gallery to-night. May I let him have it?" "Certainly. What for?" "Oh, some idea of his--I've forgotten what he said." "I believe I'd better come down," said Quarren bluntly. "Don't dream of it, old fellow. Everything is doing nicely. My respects to the fair. By-the-bye--anything in my line up there?" Quarren laughed: "I'm afraid not, Dankmere." "_Very_ well," said the Earl, airily. "I'm not worrying now, you know. _Good_-bye, old sport!" And he rang off. Quarren meeting Molly in the hall said: "I think I'd better leave this afternoon. Dankmere is messing matters." "Are you going to run away?" she said in a low voice, glancing sideways at Strelsa who had just passed them wearing her riding habit.