‘You spoke of my uncle, the Patriarch,’ observed Logotheti.

‘Did I?  Yes.  Well, what sort of a gentleman is he, anyway?’

The question seemed rather vague to the Greek.

‘How do you mean?’ he inquired, buttoning his coat over the wonderful waistcoat.

’Is he a friendly kind of a person, I mean?  Obliging, if you take him the right way?  That’s what I mean.  Or does he get on his ear right away?’

‘I should say,’ answered Logotheti, without a smile, ’that he gets on his ear right away—­if that means the opposite of being friendly and obliging.  But I may be prejudiced, for he does not approve of me.’

‘Why not, Mr. Logotheti?’

‘My uncle says I’m a pagan, and worship idols.’

‘Maybe he means the Golden Calf,’ suggested Mr. Van Torp gravely.

Logotheti laughed.

‘The other deity in business is the Brazen Serpent, I believe,’ he retorted.

‘The two would look pretty well out there on my lawn,’ answered Mr. Van Torp, his hard face relaxing a little.

’To return to the point.  Can I be of any use to you with the Patriarch?  We are not on bad terms, though he does think me a heathen.  Is there anything I can do?’

‘Thank you, not at present.  Much obliged.  I only wanted to know.’

Logotheti’s curiosity was destined to remain unsatisfied.  He refused Mr. Van Torp’s not very pressing invitation to stay to luncheon, given at the very moment when he was getting into his motor, and a few seconds later he was tearing down the avenue.

Mr. Van Torp stood on the steps till he was out of sight and then came down himself and strolled slowly away towards the trees again, his hands behind him and his eyes constantly bent upon the road, three paces ahead.

He was not always quite truthful.  Scruples were not continually uppermost in his mind.  For instance, what he had told Lady Maud about his engagement to poor Miss Bamberger did not quite agree with what he had said to Margaret on the steamer.

In certain markets in New York, three kinds of eggs are offered for sale, namely, Eggs, Fresh Eggs, and Strictly Fresh Eggs.  I have seen the advertisement.  Similarly in Mr. Van Torp’s opinion there were three sorts of stories, to wit, Stories, True Stories, and Strictly True Stories.  Clearly, each account of his engagement must have belonged to one of these classes, as well as the general statement he had made to Logotheti about the charges brought against him in the anonymous letter.  The reason why he had made that statement was plain enough; he meant it to be repeated to Margaret because he really wished her to think well of him.  Moreover, he had recognised the handwriting at once as that of Mr. Feist, Isidore Bamberger’s former secretary, who knew a good many things and might turn out a dangerous enemy.