“Oh, don’t talk,” panted the little man. “This thing is terribly important. I mustn’t lose a moment telling you. You know Heloise Reys?”

“Not at all,” said Clement dryly. He began again to unpack.

“For heaven’s sake, don’t quibble, man. You[Pg 2] know her. You came from London to Liverpool in the same carriage as Heloise Reys.”

[Pg 2]

“Oh, that was Heloise Reys,” said the young man, dropping his dress-shirts and looking up with interest. “The Gorgon woman with her called her Loise.”

“Nickname,” said the little man breathlessly. “Her name is really Heloise—What I mean to say is, you do know her.”

“Not really,” said Clement with exasperating (and, one is afraid, deliberate) casualness. “A mere chance acquaintance.”

He refused to tell the little man that, having encountered her in the C.P.R. office, he had determinedly looked out for her on the boat train.

The little man danced about in a fury of anxiety.

“Please do remember that I have the barest possible time to tell you what I must tell you. Don’t interrupt. Don’t quibble. You know her. She is good looking.”

“Very good looking,” said Clement, staring at the little man in amazement.

“She is a charming girl,” urged the little man.

“Perfectly charming,” said Clement.

“Of very good family, too,” snapped the little man.

“Probably,” said Clement. “But I didn’t find that out.”

“Don’t have to, take it from me. Very good family. No father, no mother.” 

[Pg 3]

[Pg 3]

“That,” said Clement, “I shall have to take from you.”

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