"I'm different," said Peter without a smile. "Well! I must move. Now
let's see--that lunch. What time shall I ask Hare and Mrs. Marne for?"

"Two o'clock, Thursday. I didn't have the nerve," Varney explained, "to
ask Miss Carstairs for to-day--rather lucky I didn't--and she was
engaged for Thursday."

"Right. I'll arrange it all. Well, for the Lord's sake take care of
yourself to-night, Larry, and trust me to keep out of trouble. So long."

Varney looked after Peter's disappearing back, and envied him all the
fun he was having. His own lot was certainly far less entertaining.
However, it was his own; and here he resembled his friend in one respect
at least. His thoughts, like Peter's, had a way just now of reverting at
short notice to the matters in which he himself was most closely
concerned.

He lay back idly among the cushions, and let his mind once more run over
the unexpected problems of his situation.

The new graveness of what he was pledged to do had, of course, been
strongly present in his mind from the first moment of revelation.
Kidnapping a nineteen-year-old girl was certainly, as Peter had pointed
out, a pretty serious business. He perceived that it would not look well
in the papers in the least. Also if she cared to raise a row
afterwards, there might be an aftermath which would not be wholly a
laughing matter.

Nevertheless, this side of the question seemed remote and of minor
interest to him just now. The problem appeared to be a personal one, not