“Evie dear, come in.”  Miriam threw the packet on a table, and went forward.  Ford followed, trying to regain the appearance of “just making a call.”

“No, no,” Evie cried, waving Miriam back.  “I only came—­for nothing.  That is—­But I’ll go away and come back again.  Do you think you’ll be long?  But I suppose if you have secrets—­”

Her hand was on the knob again, but Miriam caught her.

“No, darling, you must stay.  You’re absurd.  Mr. Strange and I were just—­talking.”

“Yes, so I saw.  That’s why I thought I might be de trap.  How do you do!” She put out her left hand carelessly to Ford, her right hand still holding the knob, and twisted her little person impatiently.  Ford held her hand, but she snatched it away.  “There’s not the least reason why I should stay, do you see?” she hurried on.  “I only came with a message from Aunt Queenie.”

“I’m sure it’s confidential,” Ford laughed, “so I’ll make myself scarce.”

“You can do just as you like,” Evie returned, indifferently.  “Cousin Colfax Yorke,” she added, looking at Miriam, “has telephoned that he can’t come to dine; and, as it’s too late to get anybody else, Aunt Queenie thought you might come and make a fourth.  It’s only ourselves and—–­ him,” she nodded toward Strange.

“Certainly, I’ll come, dear—­with pleasure.”

“And I’ll go,” Ford said; “but I won’t add with pleasure, because that would be rude.”

When he had gone Evie sniffed about the room, looking at the pictures and curios as if she had never seen them before.  It was evident that she had spied the packet, and was making her way, by a seemingly accidental route, toward it.  Miriam drifted back to her place in the bay-window, where, while apparently watching the traffic in the street below, she kept an eye on Evie’s manA"uvres.

“What on earth can you two have to talk about?” Evie demanded, while she seemed intent on examining a cabinet of old porcelain.

“If you’re very good, dear,” Miriam replied, trying to take an amused, offhand tone, “I’ll tell you.  It was business.”

“Business?  Why, I thought you hardly knew him.”

“You don’t have to know people very well to transact business with them.  He came on a question of—­money.”

“No, but you don’t start up doing business with a person that’s just dropped down from the clouds—­like that.”  She snapped her fingers to indicate precipitous haste.

“Sometimes you do.”

“Well, you don’t.  I know that for a fact.”  She was inspecting a vase on a pedestal in a corner now.  It was nearer to the packet.  She wheeled round suddenly, so that it should take her by surprise.  “What’s that?”

“You see.  It’s an envelope with papers in it.”

“What sort of papers?”

“I haven’t looked at them yet.  They have to do with money, or investments, or something.  I’m never very clear about those things.”