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door. Emily sat at the table shelling peas; Vera, excusing herself from giving any assistance in the kitchen by saying she had a frightful headache, had gone to lie down; and Holmes was in the smoking-room writing letters. Ann congratulated herself on the presence of Emily, when Waring appeared. But Waring was too experienced in the gentle art of philandering to find any difficulty in removing obstacles. He removed Emily.

“I’ve lost my silver cigarette case,” he said to her. “It’s probably dropped behind the cushions of the car. Just run down to the garage and have a look, will you? I’ll give you five shillings if you find it.”

“She’s busy,” said Ann, sharply.

“I’ll take on her job,” returned Waring coolly. “Off you go, Emily.”

Emily went.

“She’ll be some time searching.” He took the case from his pocket. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

“Not a bit.”

“One keeps one’s head better smoking, and I want to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to listen. And if you stay here you’ve promised to do Emily’s job.”

“All right.” He walked over to the table, and picked up a green pod. Then he threw it down impatiently. “No, let them wait. I’ve thought of you every minute of the time I’ve been away.”

“Even during the polo?” asked Ann.

She was endeavoring to treat the situation lightly, but she was more than a little disturbed. He disregarded her interruption.

“No girl has ever had the effect on me that you have. It’s the damned detached air of you, I think. Do