of explanation—some yarn we could put about the place to account for this state of things

66

"What state of things?" said Hughie doggedly. He was in an unpleasant temper. 'Well, Hughie," said Mrs Leroy, keeping hers, "here is Joan, known to have been left a lot of money for her immediate use-she admits it herself-living quite humbly and cheaply, and obviously not well off. People are asking why. There are two explanations given. One, the more popular, is that you have embezzled or speculated the money all away. The other, which prevails among the élite

"The people who are really in the know, you know," explained Leroy.

"Yes: they say," continued his wife, "that Joan won't marry you, so you have retaliated by-by

"By cutting off supplies,"

suggested Hughie. "Yes, until

"I know that," said Hughie heartily.

There was a long pause. Finally Hughie said:

"Well, it's a pretty story; but, honestly, I'm not in a position to contradict it at present."

Mrs Leroy desisted from plaiting the window cord, swung round, walked deliberately to the fireplace, and laid a hand on Hughie's arm.

"Hughie," she said, in tones which her husband her husband subsequently affirmed would have

"Joey!" said Hughie involuntarily; "Lord forbid!"

Mrs Leroy, startled by the vehemence of his tone, paused; and her husband added dejectedly

"All right, old man! Let's drop it! Sorry you couldn't see your way to confide in us. Wouldn't have gone any further. Rather sick about the whole business-eh? No wonder! Money is the devil, anyway."

Somehow Leroy's words hit Hughie harder than anything

that had been said yet. He wavered. After all

"We've bought the hat, and I'm perfectly ravenous, announced Joan, appearing in the doorway. "And we've brought Mr D'Arcy. Hughie, are those plover's eggs? Ooh!"

This was no atmosphere for the breathing of confidential secrets. The party resumed its usual demeanour of off-hand British insouciance, and began to gather round the luncheontable. Only Mr D'Arcy's right eyebrow asked a question of Mrs Leroy, which was answered by a slight but regretful shrug of the shoulders.

Hughie's apartment was Lshaped, and the feast was spread in the smaller arm, out of the way of draughts and doorways. Consequently any one entering the room would fail to see the luncheon-table unless he turned to his left and walked round a corner.

Hughie was helping the plover's eggs-it is to be feared that Miss Gaymer received a Benjamin's portion of the same -when Mr Goble suddenly appeared at his elbow and whispered in his ear

"Him again!"

Muttering an apology, Hughie left the table and walked round the corner to the other arm of the room. Lance Gaymer had just entered. His face was flushed and his eyes glittered, and Hughie's halfuttered invitation to him to come in and have some lunch died away upon his lips.

Hallo, Lance!" he said

lamely.

Mr Gaymer replied, in the

"I understand you have got a party on here." "Yes," said Hughie, endeavouring to edge his visitor through the doorway.

"What I want to say," continued Mr Gaymer in rising tones, "is that I accuse you of embezzling my sister's property, and I'm going to make things damned hot for you. Yesyou! Go and tell that to your luncheon party round the corner!" he concluded with a snort. "And - glug — glugglug ! "

By this time he had been judiciously backed into the passage, almost out of earshot of those in the room. Simultaneously Mr Goble's large hand closed upon his mouth from behind, and having thus acquired a good purchase, turned its owner deftly round and conducted him downstairs.

Death-like silence reigned at the luncheon - table. Hughie wondered how much they had heard. Not that it mattered greatly, for Master Lance's accusations, making allowances for alcoholic directness, partook

very largely of the nature of those already levelled at Hughie by more conventional deputations.

Before returning to his seat, Hughie crossed to the window and looked down into the street.

Mr Lance Gaymer was being assisted into a waiting hansom by the kindly hands of Mr Guy Haliburton.

Hughie, having seen all he expected to see, returned with faltering steps to his duties as a host.

It was a delicate moment, calling for the exercise of much tact. Even Mildred Leroy hesitated. Joan had flushed red, whether with shame, or anger, or sympathy, it was hard to say. Mr D'Arcy regarded her curiously.

But heavy-footed husbands sometimes rush in, with success, where the most wary and diplomatic wives fear to tread. Jack Leroy cleared

his throat.

"Now Hughie, my son," he observed, "when you've quite done interviewin' all your pals on the door-mat, perhaps you'll give your guests a chance. With so many old friends collected round your table like this, we want to drink your health, young-fellow-my-lad!