There was a short pause. "You seem confident, Sir Antony," remarked the Marquis in his suave voice. "Perhaps you would like to back your opinion a little further. I don't know much about this sort of thing, as I said just now, but I am prepared to support our man if only from patriotic motives." "Anything you care to suggest, Marquis," said Tony indifferently. "Shall we say a couple of hundred, then?" Tony nodded, and booked the bet on his shirt cuff. "I must be off now," he said. "I suppose you and the King will be at the Albert Hall to-night?" The Marquis shook his head. "I do not think His Majesty intends to be present. As for me—" he again shrugged his shoulders—"I grow old for such frivolities." "Well, till to-morrow then," said Tony. He passed out again through the hall, and jumping into the car steered his way slowly round the corner into Long Acre, where he branched off in the direction of Piccadilly. He was just passing Garnett's, the celebrated theatrical costumier, when the door of that eminent establishment swung open, and a very pretty and smartly dressed girl stepped out on to the pavement. Directly Tony saw her he checked the car and turned it gently in towards the gutter. She came up to him with a most attractive smile. "But how convenient, Tony," she exclaimed. "You will be able to drive me home. I was just going to waste my money on a taxi." He leaned across and opened the door. "You can give me the bob instead, Molly," he said. "Jump in." She stepped up alongside of him, and with a harsh croak the big car glided forward again into the thronging bustle of Leicester Square. "Funny picking you up like this," he said. "I've just been talking about you." "I'm always being talked about," replied Molly serenely. "I hope you weren't as nasty as most people." "I was saying that you were the only girl in London with that particular shade of red hair." Tony brought out this shameless untruth with the utmost coolness. "It is rather nice, isn't it?" said
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