“I have always regarded the Interview as obsolete,” said he. “It does not pay the photographer’s expenses. Even the bulldog as an advertising medium for an author has had his day--like every other dog. A publisher told me with tears in his eyes that he saw the time when the portrait of an author’s bull pup in a lady’s weekly journal would have exhausted a large edition of his novel--even a volume of pathetic poems has been known to run into a second edition of twenty-five copies after the appearance in an evening paper of the poet’s black-muzzled, pig-tailed pug. I’m going to give the Cat a trial some of these days. I believe that the Manx Cat has a brilliant future in store for it, and the Persian--perhaps a common or garden-wall cat will do as well as any other--I wouldn’t be bound with the stringency of the laws of the Medes and Persians as to the breed--I’d just give the Cat a chance. Properly run I believe that it will give an author of distinction as good a show as his boasted bull terrier.” And Lord Lullworth stared away at the speaker. Great Queen of Sheba! What was he talking about anyway? And then Amber, who had been listening very politely to both of the men who had been trying to impart their ideas to her, turned to Lord Lull-worth and asked him if he had heard that Mr. Over-ton had purchased The Gables, and when he replied with a grin that he hoped Overton hadn’t paid too much money for it, Overton hastened to place his mind at ease on this point. The purchase of the place had involved an immediate outlay of a considerable sum of money, he admitted, but by giving up his chambers in town and the exercise of a few radical economies he hoped to see his way through the transaction. Would Lord Lullworth come down some week’s end and have a look round? Lord Lullworth smilingly asked for some superficial information regarding the Cellar. And then Mr. Owen Glendower Richmond and Arthur Galmyn went off together, and when Guy Overton found that he had to hurry off--the _cuisine_ at the Casa Maccaroni was at its best between the hours of six and seven--Willie Bateman, who wanted to have a quiet word with him went away by his side. (He wondered if Guy would think it worth his while to pay a hundred pounds to have a stereo-block made of the river view of The Gables for an evening paper, to be inserted with a historical sketch of the house and some account of the family of the new purchaser.) Lord Lullworth laughed pleasantly--confidentially, when he and Amber were left alone together. “They are all so clever,” said Amber apologetically. She had really quite a faculty interpreting people’s thoughts. “Yes,” said he, “they are, as you say, a rummy lot.” Then she too laughed. “That’s your way of putting it,” she said. “I suppose so. What fun chaps can find in jabbering away like that beats me. They’re a bit pinkeyed, aren’t they now?” Amber evaded a question which might possibly be enigmatical, she thought.