her--eh?"

Here Windebank's face hardened.

"That woman ought to be shot," he cried. "As it is, I've a jolly
good mind to show her up. And to think she got you there!"

"Ssh!"

"You've no idea what a house it is. It's quite the worst thing of
its kind in London."

"Then what were you doing there?"

"Eh!"

"What were you doing there?"

"I'm not a plaster saint," he replied.

"Who said you were?"

"And I'm interested in life: curious to see all sides of it. She's
often asked me, but to-night, when she wired to say she'd a paragon
coming to dinner, I went."

"She wired?"

"To-night. It all but missed me. I'm no end of glad it didn't."