Geoffrey had started to his feet. He was puffing with outraged

innocence.

"What the devil do you mean by this?" he demanded. "Can't you see

you've made a mistake? My name is not Gray. This lady has told you

that I am Geoffrey Raymond!"

"Makes it all the worse for you," said the young man imperturbably,

"making advances to our client under an assumed name. We've got

letters and witnesses and the whole bag of tricks. And how about

this photo?" He dived into the bag again. "Do you recognize that,

miss?"

Maud looked at the photograph. It was unmistakably Geoffrey. And it

had evidently been taken recently, for it showed the later

Geoffrey, the man of substance. It was a full-length photograph and

across the stout legs was written in a flowing hand the legend, "To

Babe from her little Pootles". Maud gave a shudder and handed it

back to the young man, just as Geoffrey, reaching across the table,

made a grab for it.

"I recognize it," she said.

Mr. Willoughby junior packed the photograph away in his bag, and

turned to go.

"That's all for today, then, I think," he said, affably.

He bowed again in his courtly way, tilted the hat a little more to

the left, and, having greeted one of the distressed gentlewomen who

loitered limply in his path with a polite "If you please, Mabel!"

which drew upon him a freezing stare of which he seemed oblivious,

he passed out, leaving behind him strained silence.

Maud was the first to break it.

"I think I'll be going," she said.

The words seemed to rouse her companion from his stupor.

"Let me explain!"

"There's nothing to explain."

"It was just a . . . it was just a passing . . . It was nothing

. . . nothing."

"Pootles!" murmured Maud.

Geoffrey followed her as she moved to the door.

"Be reasonable!" pleaded Geoffrey. "Men aren't saints!

It was nothing! . . . Are you going to end . . . everything

. . . just because I lost my head?"

Maud looked at him with a smile. She was conscious of an

overwhelming relief. The dim interior of Ye Cosy Nooke no longer

seemed depressing. She could have kissed this unknown "Babe" whose

businesslike action had enabled her to close a regrettable Chapter

in her life with a clear conscience.

"But you haven't only lost your head, Geoffrey," she said. "You've

lost your figure as well."

She went out quickly. With a convulsive bound Geoffrey started to

follow her, but was checked before he had gone a yard.

There are formalities to be observed before a patron can leave Ye

Cosy Nooke.

"If you please!" said a distressed gentlewomanly voice.




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