for correspondence purposes?) "We're to meet the Odell-Carneys to-day in
Munich. No time to be lost. We've got to catch the nine o'clock train."

"Oh!" came in great relief from the other side of the door. Then, in
sudden dismay: "But I can't do it! The idea of getting up at an hour
like this!"

"What room is Roxbury in?"

"I--_don't_ KNOW!!" in very decided tones. "Inquire at the
office!"

Alfred Rodney was a persevering man. It is barely possible that he
occupied a lower social plane than that attained by his wife, but he was
a man of accomplishment, if not accomplishments. He always did what he
set out to do. Be it said in defence of this assertion, he not only
routed out his entire protesting flock, but had them at the West-Bahnhof
in time to catch the Orient Express--luggage, accessories, and all. Be
it also said that he was the only one in the party, save Constance and
Tootles, who took to the situation amiably.

"Damn the Odell-Carneys," was what Freddie Ulstervelt said as the train
drew out of the station. Brock looked up approvingly.

"That's the first sensible thing I've heard him say," he muttered loud
enough to be heard by Miss Fowler. "I say, who are the Odell-Carneys?
First I've heard of 'em."

"The Odell-Carneys? Oh, dear, have you never heard of them?" she cried
in surprise. He felt properly rebuked. "They are very swell Londoners.