I shook my head. I had not heard Eric mention Diana’s name for twenty years. "Eve and I never spoke of it," I said. "No, of course; you two wouldn’t—being you two. Well, Diana said to me, quite suddenly, one day: ’Eric, I want to tell you that I can’t marry you after all.’ Just that! Of course, I asked her why." "That was probably a mistake." "It was. She asked me not to press her; but, being me, that only made me more unreasonable. So finally she told me. "’Eric,’ she said, ’I am very fond of you; I always shall be—more than I care to think about. But you have one fault that I can’t get over: you have a mean streak in you. I would take you with every other fault in the world—but not that! So—good-bye!’ They were the last words she ever spoke to me. You know, she was like that. I took my medicine with a smiling face, as you may remember; but it hurt like hell—and it taught me nothing! Well"—he tapped the telegraph form—"here is my second dose! It has got home this time. I _have_ a mean streak in me, and I know it at last! Still"—he rose to his feet and held up his right hand: he could never resist the dramatic touch—"it’s not too late. I am still on the right side of fifty; and I am going to spend the rest of my life eradicating that yellow streak from my system. I think I can do it. A thing’s never dangerous once you know it’s there." Suddenly he leaned over towards me. "Alan, old boy, I’m not a _hopeless_ outsider, am I? Tell me! You know me! What am I?" "You are what I have always thought you," I said—"a very brave soldier, with a weakness for facing difficult situations with both eyes shut! Also, you are my oldest friend. Now, for goodness sake, let’s clear up this mess, and report entire lack of progress to Eskerley!" The telephone bell rang sharply. *CHAPTER XXIV* *THROUGH* The double doors at the end of the room swung back, and Lord Eskerley appeared. The bell was still ringing. A tiny hinged metal flap on the switchboard had fallen open, revealing a white disc with a number on it. His Lordship gazed absently down upon the apparatus. "The inestimable Meadows is still taking the air," he said, "so I must tackle this contraption myself. Let me think; what is the combination?" He peered at the vibrating flap and the revealed number. "Three!" he announced. "Aha! I haven’t the faintest notion what that implies. Let us stop this noise, anyhow." He pushed up the flap again, and the bell stopped ringing. "Shall we retire?" I asked. "No, no, no! If it’s desperately confidential I will switch it through to the instrument in my room; but I don’t expect"—he put the receiver to his ear—"Who wants me? What wants me? ... Caperton? Never heard of him! Oh, an exchange? A locality? A trunk call? Very well! _Rien ne m’étonne_! Carry on!"