"Won't you tell me why I can make no one hear?" she repeated, still
good-naturedly but frowning slightly at his silence.

"Mrs. Tallente is in London," he announced. "She has taken most of the
establishment with her."

The visitor fumbled in her side pocket and produced a diminutive ivory
case. She withdrew a card and handed it to Tallente, with a glance at
his gloved hands.

"Will you give this to the butler?" she begged. "Tell him to tell his
mistress that I was sorry not to find her at home."

"The butler," Tallente explained, "has gone for the milk. He shall have
the card immediately on his return."

She looked at him for a moment and then smiled.

"Do forgive me," she said. "I believe you are Mr. Tallente?"

He drew off his gloves and shook hands.

"How did you guess that?" he asked.

"From the illustrated papers, of course," she answered. "I have come to
the conclusion that you must be a very vain man, I have seen so many
pictures of you lately."

"A matter of snapshots," he replied, "for which, as a rule, the victim