Lawford stood up and walked to the looking-glass, and paused. He
put his hand to his head. 'es,' he said, 'of course; it's a
rattling good move. I'm not quite awake; myself, I mean. I'll do
it now.' He took out a pencil case and tore another leaf from his
pocket-book. 'What are they?'

Mr Bethany rang the bell. Sheila herself answered it. She stood
on the threshold and looked across through a shaft of autumnal
sunshine at her husband, and her husband with a quiet strange
smile looked across through the sunshine at his wife. Mr Bethany
waited in vain.

'I am just going to put the arch-impostor through his
credentials,' he said tartly. 'Now then, Lawford!' He read out
the questions, one by one, from his crafty little list, pursing
his lips between each; and one by one, Lawford, seated at the
dressing-table, fluently scribbled his answers. Then question and
answer were rigorously compared by Mr Bethany, with small white
head bent close and spectacles poised upon the powerful nose, and
signed and dated, and passed to Mrs Lawford without a word.

Mrs Lawford read question and answer where she stood, in complete
silence. She looked up. 'Many of these questions I don't know the
answers to myself,' she said.

'It is immaterial,' said Mr Bethany.

'One answer is--is inaccurate. 'Yes, yes, quite so: due to a
mistake in a letter from myself.'