“On second thoughts, I prefer the Piccadilly. It’s nearer. We shan’t have to take another taxi. Come along.”

“Is this a new brand of humour? Or is your brain really unhinged?” inquired Tommy.

“Your last supposition is the correct one. I have come into money, and the shock has been too much for me! For that particular form of mental trouble an eminent physician recommends unlimited hors d’œuvre, lobster à l’américane, chicken Newberg, and pêche Melba! Let’s go and get them!”

“Tuppence, old girl, what has really come over you?”

“Oh, unbelieving one!” Tuppence wrenched open her bag. “Look here, and here, and here!”

“Great Jehosaphat! My dear girl, don’t wave Fishers aloft like that!”

“They’re not Fishers. They’re five times better than Fishers, and this one’s ten times better!”

Tommy groaned.

“I must have been drinking unawares! Am I dreaming, Tuppence, or do I really behold a large quantity of five-pound notes being waved about in a dangerous fashion?”

“Even so, O King! Now , will you come and have lunch?”

“I’ll come anywhere. But what have you been doing? Holding up a bank?”

“All in good time. What an awful place Piccadilly Circus is. There’s a huge bus bearing down on us. It would be too terrible if they killed the five-pound notes!”

“Grill room?” inquired Tommy, as they reached the opposite pavement in safety.

“The other’s more expensive,” demurred Tuppence.

“That’s mere wicked wanton extravagance. Come on below.”