I never heard any more of the case, but it gave me a dislike of the business which I was engaged upon and the dislike was increased a few days later. I was looking out of my windows when I saw a woman of common appearance give an almost imperceptible nod to a passing policeman. She then came on to my flat and knocked. I let her in. “You are the lady who advertises as ‘Irma’?” she said. “I am. How did you know that I lived here?” “They told me at the tobacconist’s where your letters are sent. Now, I want you to give me some help. I have got the money here, and I can pay well.” “What is it you want?” I asked. “Well, I’m told that you are a wise woman and know the future. A man, rather younger than myself, has every appearance of being attracted by me, but I don’t know whether he means anything serious or not. I thought perhaps you’d look at my hand and tell me what was destined.” I sent her away at once. It was a police trap, of course. When you receive many letters, containing many postal orders, and you cash those orders all at one office, I suppose the police become interested. It seemed degrading, and I hated it. Also I had reflected that this was not really work that would lead to anything. I sat down there and then and wrote letters withdrawing the “Irma” advertisements. My total profit, after all expenses were paid, amounted to a little over twenty pounds. IV THE MAN BEHIND THE DOOR Being still young and passably beautiful, I had no wish to become a cynic. But the events of the next fortnight tended to make me so. I reverted to my old idea of making a conquest of some big business firm in my belief that I had ideas and could make suggestions and that these were worth money. I still believe that ideas and suggestions are worth money--pots of money. I also believe that it is extremely difficult to get a guinea for the best of them. I tried an inflated and gigantic shop, one of the stores where you buy everything, and I asked to see the manager. I do not suppose I did see the manager, but I saw someone who was more or less in authority in a back office. There was a clerk at work in that office, and the clerk made me nervous. If I could have rung and had him removed I might have got on better. As I was pretty and well dressed and did not look poor, and might have called to complain of the quality of the bacon supplied, the managerial person was at first extremely polite, and asked in what way he could serve me. “I believe,” I said, “that this is a business in which new ideas are of value.” “Yes,” he said suavely, “in fact, we’ve already noticed it.” He was still polite, but one could detect a slight shade of irony.