last effort of his chivalry. The jobs she gave him to do were too
difficult. But I daresay he had been pleased enough to show the
influence he had in that quarter. He knew my mother would tell the
world's wife all about it. He's a spiteful, gingery little wretch.
The top of his head shines like a billiard ball. I believe he
polishes it every morning with a cloth. Of course they didn't get
further than the big drawing-room on the first floor, an enormous
drawing-room with three pairs of columns in the middle. The double
doors on the top of the staircase had been thrown wide open, as if
for a visit from royalty. You can picture to yourself my mother,
with her white hair done in some 18th century fashion and her
sparkling black eyes, penetrating into those splendours attended by
a sort of bald-headed, vexed squirrel--and Henry Allegre coming
forward to meet them like a severe prince with the face of a
tombstone Crusader, big white hands, muffled silken voice, half-
shut eyes, as if looking down at them from a balcony. You remember
that trick of his, Mills?"

Mills emitted an enormous cloud of smoke out of his distended
cheeks.

"I daresay he was furious, too," Blunt continued dispassionately.
"But he was extremely civil. He showed her all the 'treasures' in
the room, ivories, enamels, miniatures, all sorts of monstrosities
from Japan, from India, from Timbuctoo . . . for all I know. . . He
pushed his condescension so far as to have the 'Girl in the Hat'
brought down into the drawing-room--half length, unframed. They
put her on a chair for my mother to look at. The 'Byzantine
Empress' was already there, hung on the end wall--full length, gold
frame weighing half a ton. My mother first overwhelms the 'Master'