Mervyn seemed very animated on the subject, and clapped his friend several times on the back with short, delighted laughs. "By Jove!" said Woodville, looking at the photograph. "Why do you say 'By Jove!'?" asked Mervyn suspiciously. "Why? Well! I must say _something_! You always show me things on which no other comment is possible but an exclamation, or you tell me things so unanswerable that there's nothing to say at all." "So I do," admitted Mervyn, smiling, as he locked away the souvenir. Then he sat down, and his animation dropped to a calmness bordering on apathy. "And how are you getting on?" "Not at all." "Aren't you, though?" Mervyn pushed the matches sympathetically towards his friend, and seemed to fall into a reverie. Then he suddenly said, brightly: "I say, Woodville, you want cheering up. Come with me and see...." "My dear chap, I'm not in the mood for theatres." "Frank!" His friend looked at him with hurt reproach. "As though I'd _let_ you see me in this new thing they're bringing out! No.--But I've got a seat at the Old Bailey for to-morrow morning to see the trial;--I think I could take you." Woodville smiled. "I appreciate immensely your methods of cheering people, Arthur, and I know what that offer is from you. But I really don't care about it." "Don't you?--What _do_ you care about?" Woodville was silent. Then Mervyn said suddenly, "I say, how's Miss Crofton and her sister? I like little Lady Chetwode awfully. She's a pretty little thing, awfully amusing, and quite clever.--She's very keen on crime, too, you know." "Oh no, nonsense, Arthur! She only pretends to be, to humour you. It's chaff. She hates it, really." "Hates it! Does she, though?--Well, anyhow she promised to go with me to the Chamber of Horrors one day. Make up a party, you know. And she says she thinks all the criminals there have the most wonderful faces physiognomically; benevolent foreheads, kindly eyes, and that sort of thing; and then she said, well, perhaps any one _would_ look good with such lovely complexions as they have! She says _she_ would have been taken in! She would have engaged all the Hannahs--she says that murderesses are always called Hannah--as housekeepers, they looked so respectable--except for the glassy eye. Oh, we had a long talk. Yes, and she'll bring her sister. You might come, too, one afternoon." "Oh, of course I'll come. It would be rather jolly," said Woodville. "Well, when this new thing is once out we'll fix it up, eh? I shall see Lady Chetwode to-morrow--at your party." "Oh, are you coming?" "Oh, yes I'm going. Every one's going." At this moment they heard outside the house a tremendous uproar, the snorting, panting, puffing, and agonised throbbing that could only proceed from a motor in distress. "Who's that?" said Woodville, going to look out of the window. Mervyn closed his eyes and leant back in his chair. "It's nothing," he said. "It's Bertie--Bertie Wilton, you know."