“Hum!” murmured Young R., “I admire the sentiment, Brimberly, but the execution leaves something to be desired, perhaps—­”

“If you’ll only let me go out to ’em, sir!” groaned Mr. Brimberly, mopping himself with a very large, exceeding white handkerchief, “if you honly will, sir!”

“No, Brimberly, no—­it would only distress you, besides—­hark! their song is ended, and rather abruptly—­I rather fancy they have fallen down the terrace steps.”

“And I ’opes,” murmured Mr. Brimberly fervently, “I do ’ope as they’ve broke their necks!”

“Of course I ought to have gone out and switched on the lights for them,” sighed Young R, “but then, you see, I thought they were safe in bed, Brimberly!”

“Why, sir,” said Mr. Brimberly, mopping furiously, “I—­I ventured to give ’em a hour’s leave of habsence, sir; I ventured so to do, sir, because, sir—­”

“Because you are of rather a venturesome nature, aren’t you, Brimberly?”

“No offence, sir, I ’ope?”

“None at all, Mr. Brimberly—­pray calm yourself and—­er—­take a little brandy.”

“Sir?”

“Your glass is under the chair yonder, or is it your friend’s?”

Mr. Brimberly goggled toward Mr. Stevens’ betraying glass, picked it up, and sat staring at it in vague and dreamy fashion until, rousing at his master’s second bidding, he proceeded to mix brandy and soda, his gaze still profoundly abstracted and his whiskers drooping with an abnormal meekness.

At this juncture a knock sounded at the door, and a chauffeur appeared, looking very smart in his elegant livery; a thick-set man, mightily deep of chest, whose wide shoulders seemed to fill the doorway, and whose long, gorilla-like arms ended in two powerful hands; his jaw was squarely huge, his nose broad and thick, but beneath his beetling brows blinked two of the mildest blue eyes in the world.

“What is it, Joe?”

“And what time will ye be wantin’ the car in the mornin’, sir?” he enquired.

“The morning, Joe?  Who can say what may happen between now and then?”

“Shall I have her round at eleven, sir, or—­”

“Eleven will do as well as any other time—­let it go at that.”

“You was to see your broker, Mr. Anderson, in the morning over them steamship shares, sir.”

“Shares, Joe, are a vanity; all is vanity—­they weary me.  Mr. Brimberly yawns, and you look sleepy—­good night, Joe; pleasant dreams.”

“Good night, sir!” and touching his right eyebrow, Joe went out, closing the door behind him.

“And now,” said Mr. Ravenslee, puffing languidly at his cigar, “referring to the necessary object, there is a chance that it may be found—­even yet, Mr. Brimberly!”

“Object, sir,” murmured Mr. Brimberly, “found, sir—­to be sure, sir.”

“Yes; I intend you shall find it for me, Brimberly.”

Mr. Brimberly’s abstraction gave place to sudden amaze.