face broadened into a smile. "You want work? Well, I have work
to offer you. What should you say now to L100 down, and all
expenses paid?" Mr. Whittington leaned back in his chair, and
thrust his thumbs into the arm-holes of his waistcoat.

Tuppence eyed him warily.

"And the nature of the work?" she demanded.

"Nominal--purely nominal. A pleasant trip, that is all."

"Where to?"

Mr. Whittington smiled again.

"Paris."

"Oh!" said Tuppence thoughtfully. To herself she said: "Of
course, if father heard that he would have a fit! But somehow I
don't see Mr. Whittington in the role of the gay deceiver."

"Yes," continued Whittington. "What could be more delightful? To
put the clock back a few years--a very few, I am sure--and
re-enter one of those charming pensionnats de jeunes filles with
which Paris abounds----"

Tuppence interrupted him.

"A pensionnat?"