elementary costume's commercial name."

"--and yourself," I read. "By the way, do you know of a
granite-built, iron-gated, portcullised, barbicaned, really
comfortable home for widows?

Yours, Jaffery."

Without waiting for comment from Adrian, I went with the letter into the
drawing room, he following. I handed it to Barbara, who ran it through.

"That's just like Jaffery. He tells us nothing."

"I think he has told us everything," said I.

"But who and what and whence is this lady?"

"Goodness knows!" said I.

"Therefore, he has told us nothing," retorted Barbara. "My own belief is
that she's a Brazilian."

"But what," asked Adrian, "would a lone Brazilian female be doing in the
Balkans?"

"Looking for a husband, of course," said Barbara.

And like all wise men when staggered by serene feminine asseveration we
bowed our heads and agreed that nothing could be more obvious.