Helen discovered him in his little room at the end of the hall.  She was resplendent in black and silver.

“So here you are, uncle!” said she, and kissed him.  “I’m so glad you got back in time.  Can you lend me sixpence?”

“What for, lass?”

“I want to give it to the man who’s taking away the chairs I had to hire.”

“What’s become of that seven hundred and seventy pound odd as ye had?”

“Oh,” she said, lightly, “I’ve spent that.”  She thought she might as well have done with it, and added:  “And I’m in debt—­lots.  But we’ll talk about that later.  Sixpence, please.”

He blenched.  But he, too, had been expensive in the pursuit of delight.  He, too, had tiresome trifles on his mind.  So he produced the sixpence, and accepted the dissipation of nearly eight hundred pounds in less than a month with superb silence.

Helen rang the bell.  “You see, I’ve had all the bells put in order,” she said.

The gentleman in evening dress entered.

“Fritz,” said she, “give this sixpence to the man with the chairs.”

“Yes, miss,” Fritz dolefully replied.  “A note for you, miss.”

And he stretched forth a charger on which was a white envelope.

“Excuse me, uncle,” said she, tearing the envelope.

“Dinna’ mind me, lass,” said he.

The note ran: 

     “I must see you by the Water to-night at nine o’clock.  Don’t fail,
     or there will be a row.—­

     A.D.”

She crushed it.

“No answer, Fritz,” said she.  “Tell cook, dinner for two.”

“Who’s he?” demanded James when Fritz had bowed himself out.

“That’s our butler,” said Helen, kindly.  “Don’t you like his eyes?”

“I wouldna’ swop him eyes,” said James.  He could not trust himself to discuss the butler’s eyes at length.

“Don’t be late for dinner, will you, uncle?” she entreated him.

“Dinner!” he cried.  “I had my dinner at Derby.  What about my tea?”

“I mean tea,” she said.

He went upstairs again to his room, but did not stay there a moment.  In the corridor he met Helen, swishing along.

“Look here, lass,” he stopped her.  “A straight question deserves a straight answer.  I’m not given to curiosity as a rule, but what is Emanuel Prockter doing on my bed?”

“Emanuel Prockter on your bed!” Helen repeated, blankly.  He saw that she was suffering from genuine surprise.

“On my bed!” he insisted.

The butler appeared, having heard the inquiry from below.  He explained that Mr. Prockter, after the song, had come to him and asked where he could lie down, as he was conscious of a tendency to faint.  The butler had indicated Mr. Ollerenshaw’s room as the only masculine room available.

“Go and ask him how he feels,” Helen commanded.

Fritz obeyed, and returned with the message that Mr. Prockter had “one of his attacks,” and desired his mother.