“I don't seem to have come across anything down here which--er--particularly attracts Mrs.--Mrs. Wenham Gardner,” Mr. Dowling went on, taking up a little sheaf of papers from the desk. “I thought, perhaps, that the Bryanston Square house might have suited, but it seems that it is too small, far too small. Mrs. Gardner is used to entertaining, and has explained to me that she has a great many friends always coming and going from the other side of the water. She requires, apparently, twelve bedrooms, besides servants' quarters.” “Your list is scarcely up to date, sir,” Tavernake reminded him. “If the rent is of no particular object, there is Grantham House.” Mr. Dowling's face was suddenly illuminated. “Grantham House!” he exclaimed. “Precisely! Now I declare that it had absolutely slipped my memory for the moment--only for the moment, mind--that we have just had placed upon our books one of the most desirable mansions in the west end of London. A most valued client, too, one whom we are most anxious to oblige. Dear, dear me! It is very fortunate--very fortunate indeed that I happened to think of it, especially as it seems that no one had had the sense to place it upon my list. Tavernake, get the plans at once and show them to--er--to Mrs. Gardner.” Tavernake crossed the room in silence, opened a drawer, and returned with a stiff roll of papers, which he spread carefully out in front of this unexpected client. She spoke then for the first time since he had entered the room. Her voice was low and marvelously sweet. There was very little of the American accent about it, but something in the intonation, especially toward the end of her sentences, was just a trifle un-English. “Where is this Grantham House?” she inquired. “Within a stone's throw of Grosvenor Square,” Tavernake answered, briskly. “It is really one of the most central spots in the west end. If you will allow me!” For the next few minutes he was very fluent indeed. With pencil in hand, he explained the plans, dwelt on the advantages of the location, and from the very reserve of his praise created an impression that the house he was describing was the one absolutely perfect domicile in the whole of London. “Can I look over the place?” she asked, when he had finished. “By all means,” Mr. Dowling declared, “by all means. I was on the point of suggesting it. It will be by far the most satisfactory proceeding. You will not be disappointed, my dear madam, I can assure you.” “I should like to do so, if I may, without delay,” she said. “There is no opportunity like the present,” Mr. Dowling replied. “If you will permit me,” he added, rising, “it will give me the greatest pleasure to escort you personally. My engagements for the rest of the day happen to be unimportant. Tavernake, let me have the keys of the rooms that are locked up. The caretaker, of course, is there in possession.”