“Well, that’s about all, then, I think.”

“Very good, sir.”

Florence came back on Monday. I didn’t see her till we were all having tea in the hall. It wasn’t till the crowd had cleared away a bit that we got a chance of having a word together.

“Well, Bertie?” she said.

“It’s all right.”

“You have destroyed the manuscript?”

“Not exactly; but⁠—”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I haven’t absolutely⁠—”

“Bertie, your manner is furtive!”

“It’s all right. It’s this way⁠—”