"I do," said Hughie, making a wry face.

"Very well, don't abuse her. She's the cleverest girl I know," said Joan warmly. "She is on the staff of 'The New Woman,' and can put a man in his place in about two minutes."

"So I discovered," said Hughie resignedly. "Popular type of girl.

However, you were saying--?"

"I was asking Ursula," continued Joan, "about the cost of living in town, and so on, and we agreed to share a flat. She said I could get along on three hundred a-year."

Joan paused expectantly, and waited for an answer to her unspoken question.

"That," said Hughie, after hesitating a moment as if to work out a sum in mental arithmetic, "is just what I can give you."

A pair of Archdiaconal shoe-buckles, the glimmer of a lady's white evening wrap, and a glowing cigar-end were discernible in the half-light of the verandah outside the drawing-room window after dinner. Two Olympians, to whom human hearts were as an open book, were discussing mortal affairs.

"Is there no way of bringing it off?" inquired one voice.

"Lots," replied the other. "But they have so bungled things between them that we shall have to go slow for a bit. Why, oh, why do men whom you could trust to do almost _anything_ in the ordinary way always make such a mess of their love-affairs? Why aren't _you_ married, for instance, Mr. D'Arcy?"

"To return to the point," said the reverend gentleman evasively, "what ought Hughie to do? Take her by the shoulders and shake her? I have known such a method prove most efficacious," he added, rather incautiously.

"N-no," said Mrs. Leroy, "I don't think so--not in Joey's case. It would bring some women to reason--most women, in fact--in no time. But the child is too high-spirited. Her pride would never forgive such treatment. A better way would be for him to make love to some one else."

"Being Hughie, that is out of the question. He could only make love to some one else if he meant it; and that would rather defeat your object, Mrs. Leroy."

"_My_ object?"

"Well, ours, then. But is there no other way?"

"Yes. He must get into trouble of some kind. At present he is too popular: everybody likes him. If they turned against him she would come round fast enough. Yes, he must get into _trouble_."

"Well, perhaps he will," said the Venerable the Archdeacon hopefully.

BOOK FOUR

THE UNJUST STEWARD

CHAPTER XV

DEPUTATIONS--WITH A DIFFERENCE

Hughie let himself into his chambers in Jermyn Street, and rang the bell of his sitting-room. It was a comfortable bachelor apartment, with sporting trophies on the walls, cavernous arm-chairs round the fireplace, and plenty of pipes dotted about the mantelpiece.

It was eleven o'clock on a fine morning in March, and Hughie had been to Putney to stroke a scratch eight against the Cambridge crew, who had rowed a full trial on the early flood and required a little pacing between bridges.

Presently the sitting-room door opened, and John Alexander Goble presented himself upon the threshold. Since his unregenerate days on board the Orinoco a new and awful respectability had descended upon him, and in his sober menial attire he looked more like a Calvinistic divine than ever. He regarded his employer with some displeasure.

"Your breakfast has been sitting in the fender these twa hours," he observed bitterly.

"Sorry, John. Afraid I forgot to countermand it. I had some at Putney."

"At what hour?" inquired the inexorable Mr. Goble.

"Half-past seven, about, with the crew."

"It's eleven the noo. You'll be able for some mair, I doot. Forbye it's a pity to waste good food. Bide you, while I'll get it."

Hughie, who was as wax in the hands of his retainer, presently found himself partaking of a lukewarm collation and opening his letters.

He glanced through the first.

"John!" he called.

Mr. Goble appeared from the bedroom.

"Were you cryin' on me?" he inquired.

"Yes. Did two gentlemen call here at ten?"

"Aye."

"Who were they?"

"Yon felly Gaymer, and anither."

"Who was he?"

"I couldna say."

"What was he like?"

Mr. Goble cast about him for a suitable comparison.

"He was just a long drink o' watter," he announced at last, with an air of finality.

"Did he look--like an actor?" inquired Hughie, with a flash of intuition.

"Worse than that," replied Goble.

"Um--I think I know him. Thank you, that will do. By the way, I'm expecting some friends to lunch. Captain and Mrs. Leroy--and Mr. D'Arcy.