Monty lit a cigar, and decided to arrive at the object of his visit by stages. For he had come to perform two important duties. He accounted as a duty a call upon Joan. No less was it a duty, and something of a relief also, to make his plan known to his partner. “How are the girls?” he asked. “They are very happy,” said Dr. Oberzohn, who had not resumed his seat, but stood in an attitude somewhat reminiscent of Gurther, erect, staring, motionless. “Always my guests are happy.” “In that dog-hole?” said the other contemptuously. “I don’t want Joan to be here.” The Herr Doktor shrugged. “Then take her away, my friend,” he said. “Why should she stay, if you are unhappy because this woman is not with you? She serves no purpose. Possibly she is fretting. By all means—I will bring her to you.” He moved to the door. “Wait a moment,” said Monty. “I’ll see her later and take her out perhaps, but I don’t want her to be away permanently. Somebody ought to stay with that girl.” “Why? Am I not here?” asked Oberzohn blandly. “You’re here, and Gurther’s here.” Monty was looking out of the window and did not meet the doctor’s eyes. “Especially Gurther. That’s why I think that Mirabelle Leicester should have somebody to look after her. Has it ever struck you that the best way out of this little trouble is—marriage?” “I have thought that,” said the doctor. “You also have thought it? This is wonderful! You are beginning to think.” The change of tone was noticeable enough now. Monty snapped round at the man who had hitherto stood in apparent awe of him and his judgments. “You can cut that sarcasm right out, Oberzohn,” he said, and, without preamble: “I’m going to marry that girl.” Oberzohn said nothing to this. “She’s not engaged; she’s got no love affairs at all. Joan told me, and Joan is a pretty shrewd girl. I don’t know how I’m going to fix it, but I guess the best thing I can do is to pretend that I am a real friend and get her out of your cellar. She’ll be so grateful that maybe she will agree to almost anything. Besides, I think I made an impression the first time I saw her. And I’ve got a position to offer her, Oberzohn: a house in the best part of London——” “My house,” interrupted Oberzohn’s metallic voice. “Your house? Well, _our_ house, let us say. We’re not going to quarrel about terms.” “I also have a position to offer her, and I do not offer her any other man’s.” Oberzohn was looking at him wide-eyed, a comical figure; his elongated face seemed to stand out in the gloom like a pantomime mask. “You?” Monty could hardly believe his ears. “I, Baron Eruc Oberzohn.” “A baron, are you?” The room shook with Monty’s laughter. “Why, you damned old fool, you don’t imagine she’d marry you, do you?” Oberzohn nodded.