The allusion was to Lady d.y.k.es. Mr. McTavish was shocked.

"Dear me, no; that is Lady d.y.k.es, of Fennington Park, one of our most esteemed clients, who has already been subjected to the most terrible annoyance. The man"--pointing to Mr. Luker--"you will turn out with the woman."

The constable touched Mr. Luker on the arm.

"Now, sir, offer the lady a good example, and show her the way out."

Mr. Luker put his hat on, and, without a word, prepared to act on the officer's advice. Mrs. Lamb caught him by the shoulder.

"You cur! Don't be a fool, Luker, and do as he tells you."

The constable smiled, good-humouredly.

"If you're a wise man, sir, you will do as I tell you, and you'll talk the matter over with the lady afterwards."

Mr. Luker seemed to incline to the opinion that the policeman's was the voice of wisdom. Withdrawing himself from the lady's detaining fingers, still without a word, he left the room. The constable addressed himself to Mrs. Lamb.

"Now, madam, we policemen hate to have to be rude to a lady; might I ask you to oblige me by following your friend's very excellent example? That's the way out."

He jerked his thumb towards the open door. Mrs. Lamb looked at him and at the others. Apparently what she saw forced her to the conclusion that what she called "the game" was "up". She brought Mr. McTavish's malacca cane on to a writing-table with a resounding thwack.

"You couple of thieves! I'll wring your necks for you yet before I've done!"

She dashed the stick upon the floor and went, the clerks treading on each others' toes in their anxiety to give her as much room as she required.

CHAPTER XXVI

SOLICITOR AND CLIENT

A pseudo-historical utterance was paraphrased by Mr. Luker when the lady joined him in the street without.

"It may have been magnificent, but it wasn't war."

It is possible that Mrs. Lamb knew very little about the charge at Balaclava. It is certain that she had never heard of the phrase with which the critical French general has been credited.

And she was in a red-hot temper, so that in any case she was in no mood to appreciate her legal adviser's recondite allusions.

The lady's own remark was idiomatic in the extreme.

"Luker, I'd like to knock your head clean off your shoulders. If it hadn't been for you I'd have got all the ready I wanted out of that couple of cripples, or----"

"Or you'd have been on your road to the lock-up. There's no 'or'

about it; if it hadn't been for me you would have been. My dear Isabel----"

"Don't call me----"

"All right; I won't. If I were to call you all that I think you ought to be called, you mightn't like it. I was merely about to remark that your methods are too primitive. In London you can't go into an office and get all the money you want out of a couple of lawyers, old or young, with the aid of a stick. It can't be done. If it could be done people would be doing it all day long."

"Can't I?" Mrs. Lamb's tone was grim. "You don't know me yet.

You wait till I get them to myself, either together or singly, and I'll lay you the National Debt to sixpence that I don't leave 'em till I've got what I want. I've my own methods, and I've found them pay me very well up to now."

"I don't doubt your capacity; when I think of where you were and of where you are I've no reason to. But in dealing with people like McTavish & Brown, with a strong case like yours, diplomacy pays better than violence. If you'd left the conduct of the affair to me I'd have at any rate exacted from them the promise of a satisfactory sum in settlement of all claims. As it is, where are you?"

He held out his hand, palm uppermost, as if to show that there was nothing in it. She walked by his side for some little distance in silence; when she spoke her tone was still grim.

"I'll tell you where I am--I'm with you. And I tell you what it is--as I couldn't get any money out of them, I'm going to get it out of you."

"Are you? I don't see how."

"Don't you? I do."

"You can't get blood out of a stone."

"No; because there's no blood in a stone. But I can get money out of you, because you've plenty."

"I wish I had."

"Don't you worry; your wish was granted before it was uttered.

I'll show you where some of it is, if you like."

In his turn Mr. Luker for a while was still. Then stopping, he held out his hand.

"I wish you good-afternoon, Mrs. Lamb."

"You needn't; I'm coming with you."

"I'm afraid I have an appointment which will prevent my enjoying the pleasure of your company any longer."

"Oh no, you haven't. Besides, it will make no difference if you have--I'm coming with you."

"You are coming with me? What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm going to accompany you to your private residence, Mr. Luker. I want to have a quiet chat with you. I can have it there better than anywhere else. We shall be snug, and all by ourselves."

He looked at her with his bleared, half-open eyes--he seemed to be physically incapable of opening them to their full extent--with an expression which some ladies would not have considered flattering, nor were his words exactly complimentary.

"I would as soon go home with a tigress as with you in your present mood--indeed, of the two, I think I would prefer the tigress. I have been in too many tight places to feel inclined to walk, with my eyes open, into quite such a tight place as that would be. Once more I have to inform you that I have an appointment which will prevent my having the pleasure of your company any farther, so I wish you good-afternoon."

"And once more I tell you that I'm coming home with you."

"Oh no, you're not."

"Oh yes, I am."

"I think you are mistaken."

He beckoned to a policeman who happened to be standing by the kerb at a little distance from where they were.