disagreeable, you will be pleased to hear that I am returning to the West End to-morrow for a few days."
"I hope you'll stay there," growled Hench wrathfully, and quite unable to get rid of this gadfly. "I prefer to be alone."
"You will be more alone than you think," retorted Spruce tartly. "Madame Alpenny is going away also for a few days. She told Mrs. Tesk, who told me."
"Just like you, to go interfering with other people's business, Spruce. Madame Alpenny can go away without the world coming to an end." He paused, then asked a question which he immediately regretted having put. "Where's she going?"
"Ah!" Spruce chuckled cynically, "you are curious in spite of your pretended dislike to meddle with what doesn't concern you. Well, she is going to see if any West End manager will come to see Zara dancing at the Bijou Music-hall, with a view to getting her daughter a better engagement."
"I hope she will succeed," said Hench heartily. "Zara is a rare dancer and well deserves better luck."
"If she goes, you will be parted."
"Oh, hang your interference!" cried Hench, and walked out of the smoking-room.
"Better make hay while the sun shines," Spruce called out after him, and, after his usual manner, chuckled when the door banged by way of reply.
There appeared to be a perfect exodus from The Home of the Muses, for Bracken also became conspicuous by his absence. He went to see his mother at Folkestone, who was a widow, as news came that her health was not what it might be. But the greatest surprise was when Bottles came to Hench on the morning of the exodus, dressed in his best clothes and smiling all over his freckled face. He was blushing also, which was a rare thing for the imp to do, and made a request which accounted for the same.
"Would you mind, sir--I mean, am I asking too much--that is, if you won't think it sauce on my part," he stumbled amongst his words and blushed deeper.
"Out with it, Bottles! What is it? Speak straight and to the point."
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