“I knew she wouldn’t leave you alone for long.  But I’ve no doubt you enjoyed it.  I hope you did.  You need adventure, my poor boy.  You were getting into a regular rut.”

“Oh, was I!” he opposed.  “And what are you doing here?  Machin told me you were out for lunch.”

“Oh!  You’ve been having a chat with your friend Machin, have you?  It seems she’s shown you your beautiful dressing-room.  Well, I was going out for lunch.  But when I heard you’d returned I gave it up and came back.  I knew so well you’d want looking after.”

“And who told you I’d returned?”

“Carthew, of course!  You’re a very peculiar pair, you two.  When I first saw him Carthew gave me to understand he’d left you at Frinton.  But when I see him again I learn that you’re in town and that you spent last night at Claridge’s.  You did quite right, my poor boy.  Quite right.  I want you to feel free.  It must have been great fun stopping at Claridge’s, with your own home close by.  I’ll tell you something.  We were dancing at Claridge’s last night, but I suppose you’d gone to bed.”

“The dickens you were!” said he.  “By the way, you might instruct one of your butlers to telephone to the hotel for my things and have the bill paid.”

“So you’ll sleep here to-night?” said she, archly.

“If there’s room,” said he.  “Anyway you’ve arranged all my clothes with the most entrancing harmony and precision.”

“Oh!” Eve exclaimed, in a tone suddenly changed.  “That was Miss Warburton more than me.  She took an hour off from Charlie this morning in order to do it.”

Then Mr. Prohack observed his wife’s face crumble to pieces, and she moved aside from him, sat down and began to cry.

“Now what next?  What next?” he demanded with impatient amiability, for he was completely at a loss to keep pace with the twistings of her mind.

“Arthur, why did you deceive me about that girl?  How could you do it?  I hadn’t the slightest idea it was M—­miss W—­instock.  I can’t make you out sometimes, Arthur—­really I can’t!”

The fellow had honestly forgotten that he had in fact grossly deceived his wife to the point of planting Mimi Winstock upon her as somebody else.  He had been nourishing imaginary and absurd grievances against Eve for many hours, but her grievance against himself was genuine enough and large enough.  No wonder she could not make him out.  He could not make himself out.  His conscience awoke within him and became exceedingly unpleasant.  But being a bad man he laughed somewhat coarsely.

“Oh!” he said.  “That was only a bit of a joke.  But how did you find out, you silly child?”

“Ozzie saw her yesterday.  He knew her.  You can’t imagine how awkward it was.  Naturally I had to laugh it off.  But I cried half the night.”

“But why?  What did it matter?  Ozzie’s one of the family.  The girl’s not at all a bad sort, and I did it for her sake.”