“Yes, they are,” said Tuppence.  “Their clothes are different, perhaps, but they themselves are just the same.”

“Well, perhaps you’re right.  Minxes then—­minxes now!”

“That’s it,” said Tuppence.  “I’m a frightful minx myself.”

“I believe you,” said the old gentleman, chuckling, and pinched her ear in high good-humour.  Most young women were terrified of the “old bear,” as they termed him.  Tuppence’s pertness delighted the old misogynist.

Then came the timid archdeacon, a little bewildered by the company in which he found himself, glad that his daughter was considered to have distinguished herself, but unable to help glancing at her from time to time with nervous apprehension.  But Tuppence behaved admirably.  She forbore to cross her legs, set a guard upon her tongue, and steadfastly refused to smoke.

Dr. Hall came next, and he was followed by the American Ambassador.

“We might as well sit down,” said Julius, when he had introduced all his guests to each other.  “Tuppence, will you——­”

He indicated the place of honour with a wave of his hand.

But Tuppence shook her head.

“No—­that’s Jane’s place!  When one thinks of how she’s held out all these years, she ought to be made the queen of the feast to-night.”

Julius flung her a grateful glance, and Jane came forward shyly to the allotted seat.  Beautiful as she had seemed before, it was as nothing to the loveliness that now went fully adorned.  Tuppence had performed her part faithfully.  The model gown supplied by a famous dressmaker had been entitled “A tiger lily.”  It was all golds and reds and browns, and out of it rose the pure column of the girl’s white throat, and the bronze masses of hair that crowned her lovely head.  There was admiration in every eye, as she took her seat.

Soon the supper party was in full swing, and with one accord Tommy was called upon for a full and complete explanation.

“You’ve been too darned close about the whole business,” Julius accused him.  “You let on to me that you were off to the Argentine—­though I guess you had your reasons for that.  The idea of both you and Tuppence casting me for the part of Mr. Brown just tickles me to death!”

“The idea was not original to them,” said Mr. Carter gravely.  “It was suggested, and the poison very carefully instilled, by a past-master in the art.  The paragraph in the New York paper suggested the plan to him, and by means of it he wove a web that nearly enmeshed you fatally.”

“I never liked him,” said Julius.  “I felt from the first that there was something wrong about him, and I always suspected that it was he who silenced Mrs. Vandemeyer so appositely.  But it wasn’t till I heard that the order for Tommy’s execution came right on the heels of our interview with him that Sunday that I began to tumble to the fact that he was the big bug himself.”