LITMIR.BIZ

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gimcrack that no one dares do anything to him for fear he should tumble to pieces."

      "Many thanks!" said Nick.

      Violet's peal of laughter mingled with the weird notes of her mandolin, and Olga, returning, desired to be told the joke.

      Nick pulled her down beside him on the sofa. "Come and take care of me,

       Olga mia! I'm being disgracefully maligned. Can't you persuade Miss Campion to sing to us, by way of changing the subject?"

      "Who has been maligning you?" demanded Olga, looking at Max with very bright eyes.

      He looked straight back at her with that gleam in his eyes which with any other man would have denoted admiration but which with him she well knew to be only mockery.

      "I admit it, fair lady," he said. "I threw a clod of mud at your hero. I thought it would be good for him. However, you will be relieved to hear that it went wide of the mark. He still sits secure in his tight little shrine and smiles magnanimously at my futility."

      Olga's hand slipped into Nick's. "He's the biggest man you've ever seen!" she declared, with warmth.

      "Please don't fight over my body!" remonstrated Nick. "I never professed to be more than a minnow among Tritons, and quite a lean minnow at that."

      "You're not, Nick!" declared his champion impetuously. "You're a giant!"

      "In miniature," suggested Max. "He is actually proposing to go and kick

       Major Hunt-Goring because—" He broke off short.

      Into Olga's face of flushed remonstrance there had flashed a very strange look, almost a petrified look, as if she had suddenly come upon a snake in her path.

      "Why?" she said quickly.

      "Oh, never mind why," said Max, passing rapidly on. "That wasn't the point. We were trying to picture Hunt-Goring's amusement. He stands about seven feet high, doesn't he? And your redoubtable uncle—What exactly is your height, Ratcliffe?"

      "Nick, why do you want to kick Major Hunt-Goring?" Very distinctly Olga put the question. She was evidently too proud to accept help from this quarter.

      "It's a chronic craving with me," said Nick. "But Miss Campion has kindly undertaken the job for me. I am sure she is infinitely better equipped for the task than I am, and she will probably do it much more effectually."

      "But not yet!" laughed Violet. "I like his cigarettes too well. Why do you look like that, Allegro? Doesn't he send you any?"

      "If he did," said Olga, with concentrated passion, "I'd pick them up with the tongs and put them in the fire!"

      Max laughed in a fashion that made her wince, but Nick's fingers squeezed hers protectingly.

      "You don't like him any better than I do apparently," he said lightly. "But I suppose we must tolerate the man for Jim's sake. He wouldn't thank us for eliminating all his unpleasant patients during his absence. Now, Miss Campion, a song, please! The most sentimental in your repertoire!"

      She flashed him her gay smile and flung the streaming ribbons over her arm. There was a gleam of mischief in her eyes as, without preliminary, she began to sing. Her voice was rich and low and wonderfully pure.

      In vain all the knights of the Underworld woo'd her,

       Though brightest of maidens, the proudest was she;

       Brave chieftains they sought, and young minstrels they sued her,

       But worthy were none of the high-born Ladye.

      "Whomsoever I wed," said this maid, "so excelling,

       That Knight must the conqu'ror of conquerors be;

       He must place me in halls fit for monarchs to dwell in;—

       None else shall be Lord of the high-born Ladye!"

      Thus spoke the proud damsel, with scorn looking round her

       On Knights and on Nobles of highest degree;

       Who humbly and hopelessly left as they found her,

       And worshipp'd at distance the high-born Ladye.

      At length came a Knight from a far land to woo her,

       With plumes on his helm like the foam of the sea;

       His vizor was down—but, with voice that thrill'd through her,

       He whisper'd his vows to the high-born Ladye.

      "Proud maiden, I come with high spousals to grace thee,

       In me the great conqu'ror of conquerors see;

       Enthron'd in a hall fit for monarchs I'll place thee,

       And mine thou'rt for ever, thou high-born Ladye!"

      The maiden she smil'd and in jewels array'd her,

       Of thrones and tiaras already dreamt she;

       And proud was the step, as her bridegroom convey'd

       her In pomp to his home, of that high-born Ladye.

      "But whither," she, starting, exclaims, "have you led me?

       Here's nought but a tomb and a dark cypress tree;

       Is this the bright palace in which thou wouldst wed me?" With scorn in her glance, said the high-born Ladye.

      "Tis the home," he replied, "of earth's loftiest creatures."

       Then he lifted his helm for the fair one to see;

       But she sunk on the ground—'twas a skeleton's features,

       And Death was the Lord of the high-born Ladye!

      The beautiful voice throbbed away into silence, and the mandolin jarred and thrummed upon the floor. Violet Campion sat staring straight before her with eyes that were wide and fixed.

      Olga jumped up impulsively. "Violet, why did you sing that gruesome thing? Do you want to give us all the horrors?"

      She picked up the mandolin with a swish of its red ribbons, and laid it upon the piano, where it quivered and thrummed again like a living thing, awaking weird echoes from the instrument on which it rested.

      Then she turned back to her friend. "Violet, wake up! What are you looking at?"

      But Violet remained immovable as one in a trance.

      Olga bent over her, touched her. "Violet!"

      With a quick start, as though suspended animation had suddenly been restored, Violet relaxed in her chair, leaning back with careless grace, her white arms outstretched.

      "What's the matter, Allegretto? You look as if you had had a glimpse of the conqueror of conquerors yourself. I shall have to come and sleep with you to frighten away the spooks."

      "I don't think I shall ever dare to go to bed at all after that," said

       Nick.

      She laughed at him lazily. "Get Max to sit up with you and hold your hand! The very sight of him would scare away all bogies."

      "The sign of a wholesome mind," said Max.

      She turned towards him. "Not at all! Scepticism only indicates gross materialism and lack of imagination. There is nothing at all to be proud of in the possession of a low grade of intelligence."

      Max's mouth went down, and Violet's face flashed into her most bewitching smile.

      "I don't often get the opportunity to jeer at a genius," she said. "You know that I am one of your most ardent admirers, don't you?"

      "Is that the preliminary to asking a favour?" said Max.

      She broke into a light laugh. "No, I never ask favours. I always take what I want. It's much the quickest way."

      "Saves trouble, too," he suggested.

      "It does," she agreed.

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